,5"  3  . 


' 


OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


'SO  HELP  ME!     IT  COST  FOUR   HUNDRED   DOLLARS." — PAGE    Il6. 


MAGGIE 
PEPPER 


BY 

CHARLES  KLEIN 


AUTHOR  OF 

THE  MUSIC  MASTER 

THE  LION  AND  THE  MOUSE 


i 


GROSSET     &     DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS          :  :         :  i          NEW    YORK 


COPYRIGHT.  1911,  BY 
THE  H.  K.   FLY  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  AGENT  OF  DESTINY 7 

II  SPORT  JOSEPH  AT  HOME 18 

III  JAKE  DISCOURSES 31 

IV  AT  HOLBROOKE  AND  COMPANY'S 43 

V  MAGGIE  PEPPER 55 

VI  THE  STRANGE  GENTLEMAN 69 

VII  STEPS  TO  TROUBLE 86 

VIII  ADA  DARKIN 98 

IX  PER  J.  H 112 

X  THE  NEW  BUYER 123 

XI  MAGGIE  IN  THE  MAKING 132 

XII  SCANDAL 146 

XIII  JAKE'S  GIFT 158 

XIV  DARKIN'S  ENTRANCE 167 

XV  PLOTTINGS 179 

XVI  MAGGIE  RESIGNS 193 

XVII  JAKE'S  PASSING 201 

XVIII  A  MOTHER'S  PENITENCE 214 


21,30681 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  FACE 

XIX  EXPLOSION  ! 227 

XX  LOVERS  AT  ODDS 238 

XXI  BY  FORCE  OF  ARMS 259 

XXII  THE  PERSISTENT  INVALID 267 

XXIII  NEW  PERIL 284 

XXIV  AN  INVITATION  FOR  THE  MARQUIS 300 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGB 

"So  help  me!  it  cost  four  hundred  dollars" Frontispiece 

"What  is  it  that  has  taken  the  heart  out  of  you  ?" 79 

"I'm  going  to  try  and  make  myself  worthy  of  you  both" 225 

'  I  shall  not  leave  here,  Margaret,  until  you  have  consented 

to  be  my  wife" 279 


MAGGIE   PEPPER 


CHAPTER    I 

AGENT   OF   DESTINY 

IT  was  the  Marquis  de  Brensac  who  turned  Hol- 
brooke and  Company,  of  New  York,  topsy-turvy.  This, 
too,  despite  the  fact  that  the  excellent  nobleman  had 
never  heard  of  the  great  department  store  at  the  time  of 
his  exploit.  For  that  matter,  the  marquis  would  have 
been  horrified  by  the  bare  suggestion  of  trade  in  con- 
nection with  his  most  aristocratic  self.  It  so  came 
about,  however,  that,  without  any  volition  on  his  part, 
he  served  as  the  instrument  of  destiny  in  those  stirring 
events  that  recently  befell  the  old-established  house  of 
Holbrooke. 

Joseph  Holbrooke,  chief  owner  of  the  great  establish- 
ment— by  inheritance — met  de  Brensac  twice  in  France. 
Because  of  those  meetings,  the  young  man  altered  the 
whole  course  of  his  life.  The  change  on  his  part  begot 

7 


8  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

history  for  the  firm.    Better  still,  it  won  happiness  for 
himself.  .  .  .  But  that  is  the  story  to  be  told. 

Joseph  found  Europe  very  gay  during  the  year  he 
spent  there  soon  after  coming  into  his  inheritance.  As 
to  that,  Europe  is  likely  to  be  gay  for  one  who  is 
willing  to  spend  a  million  of  dollars  on  it  within  a 
twelvemonth.  Rumor  had  it  that  "Le  Sport  Joseph," 
as  he  was  genially  called  by  his  cronies  in  Paris,  had 
already  lavished  this  considerable  amount  of  money  in 
his  brief  career  abroad.  Doubtless,  the  truth  was  ex- 
aggerated somewhat,  after  the  common  fashion. 
Joseph  himself  amusedly  denied  the  gossip  concerning 
his  extravagance.  Yet,  there  was  a  hint  of  wryness 
in  his  smile,  for  the  estimate  was  close — very  close. 
Being  at  bottom  a  wholesome  young  man  of  much 
natural  shrewdness,  he  was  inclined  to  be  a  bit  ashamed 
of  this  over-costly  pleasuring.  The  riotous  impulse  of 
youth  led  him  to  extravagances  in  the  pursuit  of  gayety. 
It  was  not  viciousness  that  drove  him  on:  only  the 
desire  to  experience  in  its  fulness  the  best  of  everything 
from  a  new  environment.  He  craved  variety :  he  pur- 
chased it  lavishly.  But,  in  the  end,  he  began  to  think 
that  much  of  his  expenditure  was  merely  absurd.  In 
other  words,  his  good  sense  began  to  carp  against  aim- 


AGENT  OF  DESTINY.  9 

less  prodigality.  The  novelty  in  this  life  of  leisure  as 
his  own  master,  with  great  wealth  at  his  command, 
was  wearing  away  swiftly;  in  its  stead  came  a  growing 
weariness.  The  red  blood  that  was  his  from  a  long 
line  of  vigorous  American  workers  pulsed  with  subtle 
dissatisfaction,  which  he  could  not  understand  pre- 
cisely, although  he  felt  it  more  and  more.  Most  of 
those  with  whom  he  now  hobnobbed  had  blood  of  the 
bluest,  in  which  was  no  discontent  with  conditions  so 
increasingly  irksome  to  himself.  Being  little  inclined 
to  analysis  or  introspection,  Joseph  did  not  know  just 
wherein  lay  the  trouble,  but  he  was  in  a  mood  for 
change.  ...  It  was  the  marquis  who  set  light  flaring 
on  a  new  path. 

The  Norla,  a  floating  palace  of  renown,  had  been 
hired  by  Joseph  because  it  chanced  to  be  the  most  ex- 
pensive on  the  market  at  the  moment  when  he  was 
seized  with  a  fancy  to  roam  the  sea  in  his  own  yacht. 
After  some  weeks  of  languid  cruising  in  the  Mediterra- 
nean, anchor  was  dropped  one  morning  just  off  San 
Raphael.  It  was  then  that  the  American  was  pleased 
to  remember  the  Marquis  de  Brensac,  who  had  an 
estate  in  the  neighborhood.  On  the  one  occasion  of 
meeting  the  nobleman,  at  a  supper  party  in  Paris  two 
months  before,  Joseph  had  been  attracted  particularly 


io  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

by  the  man's  personality.  Although  barely  thirty  years 
of  age,  the  marquis  displayed  in  face  and  form  a 
certain  seriousness  uncommon  among  those  with  whom 
Joseph  was  wont  to  foregather.  Listless  at  the  mo- 
ment, by  reason  of  the  likeness  this  entertainment  bore 
to  countless  others,  the  American  manoeuvred  to  get  a 
chair  beside  de  Brensac  when  the  period  of  formality 
was  ended.  A  pleasant  conversation  between  the  two 
followed.  Something  in  the  younger  man's  unjaded 
outlook  on  life  appealed  to  the  elder.  Before  they 
separated,  the  marquis  explained  that  he  was  about  to 
withdraw  to  his  estate  on  the  Riviera,  and  he  extended 
to  Joseph  a  very  cordial  invitation  to  visit  him  there, 
at  any  time. 

So,  now,  the  invitation  was  remembered.  The 
American  determined  to  visit  the  marquis  forthwith. 
Anticipations  of  the  visit  proved  pleasurable;  he  hur- 
ried his  preparations.  Two  hours  after  the  arrival  of 
The  Norla  off-shore,  he  was  sitting  at  ease  in  the 
library  of  the  old  castle,  chatting  contentedly  with  its 
lord.  He  was  prevailed  on,  with  no  great  difficulty, 
to  remain  for  dinner. 

It  was  while  the  two  lingered,  smoking,  over  their 
coffee  and  cordials,  that  the  conversation  took  a  serious 
turn  —  which  resulted  in  the  topsy-turvying  of  Hoi- 


AGENT  OF  DESTINY  1 1 

brooke  and  Company,  in  New  York.  The  talk  had 
grown  somewhat  intimate,  for  there  was  instinctively 
a  real  sympathy  of  feeling  between  the  two,  sufficient 
for  quick  friendship,  notwithstanding  the  differences  of 
birth  and  training.  An  honest  curiosity  led  Joseph  to 
reveal  something  of  the  unrest  in  his  own  spirit  by  a 
question  he  put  to  his  host. 

"But  don't  you  ever  tire  of  it  all?"  he  demanded. 
"Don't  you  get  horribly  bored  —  just  living  this  life  of 
leisure:  social  functions  at  the  best,  dissipation  at  the 
worst?  Of  course,  I  understand  that  it's  an  art  over 
here.  We  haven't  learned  the  same  sort  of  thing  in 
our  country  yet.  We're  too  young.  .  .  .  And  you  do 
know  how  to  live  beautifully,  making  just  the  right 
round  of  things  all  the  time,  and  how  to  build  a  science 
out  of  it,  as  well  as  an  art.  .  .  .  But,  when  all's  said 
and  done,  don't  you  get  frightfully  weary  of  it,  pretty 
often?  You  don't  mind  my  asking,  I  hope?  You  see, 
somehow,  you  seem  a  bit  more  thoughtful  than  most 
of  the  chaps  I've  met  in  going  about." 

"The  trouble  is,"  the  marquis  answered  readily, 
smiling  a  little,  "the  chaps  you  meet  most  in  'going 
about/  as  you  put  it,  are  the  ones  that  devote  them- 
selves to  social  pleasures  as  the  chief  thing  in  life. 
Now,  in  spite  of  the  contrary  reports  concerning  us 


12  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

current  in  your  country,  we  have  only  about  the  pro- 
portion of  this  sort  that  you  have  at  home  among  the 
children  of  wealthy  parents.  The  larger  part  of  us  by 
far "  He  paused,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Well,  then,  the  larger  part  of  you ?"  Joseph 

urged. 

"Why,  it  may  sound  a  bit  conceited  to  you,"  the 
Frenchman  continued,  with  some  slight  trace  of  embar- 
rassment, "but  the  fact  is,  most  of  us  are  better  than 
that.  It's  a  matter  of  noblesse  oblige,  you  know.  In 
nearly  all  of  our  old  families,  there's  a  tradition  con- 
cerning some  kind  of  excellence.  A  very  few,  I 
confess,  do  seem  to  take  pride  in  excellent  deviltry :  but 
the  bulk  cherish  something  worth  while.  Each  of  us 
tries  to  live  up  to  his  family  specialty,  so  to  speak.  It 
may  be  in  arms,  or  in  education,  or  in  statesmanship, 
or  in  letters,  or  in  science  —  anything  that  counts  for 
the  good  of  the  world.  Always,  there  is  something 
which  is  the  pride  of  the  race.  That  is  our  stimulation. 
We  try  to  live  up  to  the  mark  set  by  our  ancestors. 
We  even  endeavor  to  excel  it,  if  possible,  which  means 
work  —  hard  work,  and  plenty  of  it.  If  I  may  be 
permitted  to  refer  to  myself  without  egotism:  I  take 
two  months  in  Paris,  during  the  season.  For  the  other 


AGENT  OF  DESTINY  13 

ten  months,  I  avoid  society,  save  only  the  little  oblig- 
atory on  me  here,  and  I  work  steadily." 

Joseph's  clean-cut  face  was  aglow. 

"Bless  my  heart !"  he  exclaimed.  "Why,  I  had  no 
idea  of  it.  You're  the  only  one  of  the  kind  that  I've 
met." 

The  marquis's  lips  twitched  very  slightly;  but  he 
courteously  refrained  from  offering  a  frank  expla- 
nation. 

"It  was  a  fortunate  chance  that  led  me  to  accept  the 
invitation  of  my  cousin  to  the  supper  at  which  you 
also  were  a  guest,"  he  said  suavely.  "I  do  not  often 
attend  affairs  of  the  sort.  They  are,  doubtless,  admir- 
able for  relaxation  on  occasion,  but  they  are  likely  to 
interfere  with  more  serious  pursuits."  This  was  as 
much  as  courtesy  would  permit  him  to  say  on  the 
subject. 

"Tell  me,  please,"  Joseph  requested,  with  his  clear 
gray  eyes  fixed  earnestly  on  the  nobleman,  "what  is 
the  line  of  work  that  is  your  own?" 

The  marquis  smiled  openly. 

"If  you  were  French,"  he  replied,  assuming  a  manner 
of  pride  that  became  him  well,  "you  would  hardly  need 
to  ask  the  question.  For  generations,  the  house  of 
Brensac  has  been  famous  for  its  historians.  Each 


14  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

head  in  turn  has  added  something  to  the  reputation  of 
the  family  in  this  regard.  Others  of  our  blood  have 
helped  as  well.  I  have  tried  to  follow  as  best  I  might 
in  the  path  they  trod.  Thus,  you  see,  I  am  an  heredi- 
tary historian." 

Joseph  stared  silently  at  his  host.  In  his  expression, 
astonishment  mingled  with  admiration.  He  was  at 
once  impressed  and  gratified  by  this  revelation  that 
was  so  suddenly  come  to  him  concerning  a  seriousness 
of  which  he  had  not  dreamed  in  the  life  about  him.  To 
be  sure,  it  flashed  on  him  that  a  life  devoted  to  poring 
over  the  musty  archives  of  the  past  might  well  prove 
deadly  dull.  His  own  red  blood  rebelled  against  the 
idea  of  such  tedious  toil  year  in  and  year  out  for  him- 
self, however  well  it  might  fit  the  nature  of  the  blue- 
blooded  marquis.  Yet,  after  all,  the  character  of  the 
individual  work  mattered  little,  if  any.  What  loomed 
important  was  the  fact  that  some  of  these  elegant 
gentlemen  of  the  old  regime,  whom  he  had  consistently 
regarded  as  wholly  frivolous  and  essentially  worthless 
in  the  utilitarian  scheme  of  things,  were  in  fact  sternly 
devoted  to  ideals  of  duty.  Joseph  looked  on  the  noble- 
man before  him  with  new  respect,  where  hitherto  had 
been  no  more  than  casual  liking.  This  handsome, 
aristocratic  person  of  especially  polished  manners,  en- 


AGENT  OF  DESTINY  15 

countered  at  one  of  those  roystering  suppers  in  Paris 
where  the  food  is  too  good,  and  the  wines  too  plentiful, 
and  the  conversation  too  decadent  —  tliis  man  was 
striving  his  best  to  do  the  work  to  which  he  felt  himself 
called  by  the  obligation  of  race.  The  Marquis  de  Bren- 
sac  was  an  hereditary  historian. 

Of  a  sudden,  Joseph  felt  a  pang  of  penetrant,  fierce 
envy,  followed  by  a  fervid  disgust  for  his  own  useless- 
ness  in  the  world.  Then,  in  the  next  moment,  thought 
crystallized  in  his  brain.  The  vague  unrest  in  him  was 
interpreted:  it  shifted  into  purpose.  In  the  shock  of 
surprise,  he  cried  out  sharply,  to  the  vast  astonishment 
of  his  host.  For  a  long  second,  panoramic  vision 
swept  before  him.  He  saw  the  great  store,  the  seeming 
jumble  of  multitudinous  activities,  all  ordered  to  per- 
fection, the  crowded  aisles,  the  army  of  employees,  the 
profusion  of  rich  goods  in  every  guise.  He  beheld 
the  tremendous  structure  reared  by  two  generations  of 
his  blood,  the  thing  that  was  his  inheritance  —  his ! 

"Why,  good  Lord !"  he  ejaculated  vehemently.  The 
marquis  raised  inquiring  eyebrows.  "Just  look  at  me, 
if  you  please,"  the  American  went  on,  with  even  greater 
emphasis.  "I,  sir  —  I  am  an  hereditary  shopkeeper! 
Now,  what  do  you  think  of  that?"  He  spoke  with  a 


i6 

certain  levity ;  yet,  underneath  it  was  a  new  realization 
of  himself  —  one  that  solved  perplexities. 

The  historian  shrugged  his  shoulders,  doubtfully. 
Always,  it  was  quite  impossible  to  understand  these 
mad  Americans.  The  present  guest  was  no  exception, 
although  otherwise  far  superior  to  most  of  his  country- 
men. A  scrutiny  of  the  young  man  suggested  no  clue 
in  explanation  of  such  extraordinary  behavior.  His 
expression  was  half-whimsical,  half-resolute :  it  did  not 
reveal  a  reason  for  so  great  excitement.  This  was  a 
democratic  age,  the  marquis  reflected  sadly,  but  a  shop- 
keeper—  ugh!  Despite  his  habitual  politeness,  the 
host  showed  a  trace  of  disdain  in  a  second  shrug. 
Then,  he  mastered  himself  once  again,  and  regained  his 
mental  poise.  The  American  was  undeniably  a  gentle- 
man, though  sprung  of  a  line  of  merchant  princes,  as 
gossip  told.  The  false  pride  that  apes  humility  led  him 
to  speak  thus  disparagingly  of  himself.  The  marquis 
shrugged  his  shoulders  for  a  third  time. 

Joseph  observed  the  third  shrug  with  attention, 
understood  it,  answered  it  succinctly. 

"It  amounts  to  just  that,"  he  declared,  firmly.  "Yes, 
I'm  an  hereditary  shopkeeper.  My  father  kept  a  shop 
—  mighty  well,  too !  My  grandfather  before  him  kept 
a  shop.  It  was  a  good  one  for  its  day.  I  guess  that's 


AGENT  OF  DESTINY  17 

about  as  far  back  as  we  amount  to  much.  .  .  .  Pride 
of  race  —  family  tradition  —  noblesse  oblige!  By  Jove, 
marquis,  you've  hit  the  nail  on  the  head.  You're  the 
hereditary  historian.  Well,  I'm  the  hereditary  shop- 
keeper. That's  what's  the  matter  with  me.  I've  no 
earthly  business  fooling  around  over  here.  My  place 
is  over  there  in  the  shop.  Noblesse  oblige — certainly !" 
De  Brensac  smiled  as  amiably  as  he  could,  but  with- 
out enthusiasm.  Trade  of  any  sort  remained  something 
infinitely  below  his  consideration.  He  did  his  best  to 
appear  sympathetic,  for  he  liked  the  young  American. 
His  voice  was,  however,  undeniably  dismal  as  he 
repeated  the  phrase  inanely : 

"Ah,  yes,  quite  so,  monsieur  —  noblesse  oblige" 
"Yes,  sir,"  Joseph  declared.  There  was  the  earnest- 
ness of  profound  conviction  in  his  tone.  "I  must  get 
busy  with  the  traditions  of  my  blood."  He  stood  up 
abruptly,  drawn  to  his  full  six  feet  of  height,  his 
shoulders  squared.  "I  think  I'll  just  say  good-bye, 
marquis.  You  see,"  he  laughed  softly,  "I  must  hurry 
home  now  —  to  the  shop !" 


CHAPTER  II 

SPORT   JOSEPH   AT   HOME 

JOSEPH  HOLBROOKE  lost  no  time  in  carrying  out 
the  plan  so  hastily  envolved  from  his  conversation 
with  the  Marquis  de  Brensac.  Three  days  after  his 
visit  at  the  castle,  he  sailed  from  Liverpool  for  New 
York. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  on  the  voyage  the  young 
man  found  himself  often  sadly  beset  with  doubts  as 
to  the  wisdom  of  his  course.  His  resolution  remained 
unshaken,  but  his  intelligence  was  sufficient  to  array 
before  him  the  multitudinous  difficulties  with  which 
he  would  be  confronted.  He  was  well  aware  that  his 
university  training  would  serve  him  not  at  all  in  the 
new  situation.  His  education  had  been  excellent  of 
its  kind,  but  it  had  never  touched  on  business  affairs. 
Of  these,  any  office-boy  knew  much  more  than  Joseph 
suspected.  Thus,  at  the  outset,  he  must  be  grievous- 
ly handicapped  by  ignorance.  The  fact  was  frank- 
ly admitted,  it  was  regretted  as  well;  but  undue  im- 
portance was  not  given  to  it.  At  the  worst,  it  could 

18 


SPORT  JOSEPH  AT  HOME         19 

cause  nothing  more  disastrous  than  delay  in  the  ac- 
complishment of  his  hereditary  task.  He  would  de- 
vote himself  diligently  to  mastering  all  details  of  the 
business  that  had  come  to  him  by  inheritance,  its 
subtleties,  its  policies,  its  ambitions.  Then,  he  would 
carry  it  forward  to  magnificent  achievement,  to  a  suc- 
cess beyond  that  wrought  by  even  his  father.  Such 
was  the  duty  that  was  his  by  reason  of  his  blood;  he 
would  fulfill  it  scrupulously.  .  .  Noblesse  oblige! 

Yet,  there  was  much  more  in  Joseph's  heart  than  a 
stark  desire  to  follow  a  family  tradition.  The  young 
gentleman  of  leisure,  who  had  grown  weary  of  frivoli- 
ties, now  found  himself  eagerly  anticipating  the  new 
activities.  His  handsome  face  took  on  an  air  of  grav- 
it}'-;  he  moved  more  sedately.  He  was  abruptly 
metamorphosed  into  the  man  of  affairs,  and  uncon- 
sciously betrayed  the  unaccustomed  dignity  by  a 
changed  bearing,  although,  as  yet,  he  could  not  have 
told  the  difference  between  a  balance-sheet  and  an 
inventory.  In  short,  he  was  all  agog  with  interest 
for  the  future  work,  and  happier  than  ever  before  in 
his  life.  He  was  so  very  busy  with  imaginations, 
speculations  and  ambitions  concerning  the  business 
that  he  had  little  time  for  thought  of  Ethel  Hargen, 
the  girl  to  whom  he  was  engaged.  He  had  been 


20  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

mindful  to  cable  her  of  his  sailing;  then  he  had  dis- 
missed her  from  his  mind,  if  not  his  heart,  although 
there  had  been  a  full  year  of  separation.  If  he  gave 
her  any  heed  at  all,  it  was  to  include  as  a  matter  of 
course  her  gratification  over  the  change  in  him.  Her 
uncle,  of  whom  she  was  very  fond,  had  been  an  active 
man  of  business  all  his  life;  he  was,  in  fact,  the  Com- 
pany of  the  Holbrooke  firm,  and  managed  the  con- 
cern. Naturally,  Ethel  would  be  delighted  to  have 
her  husband  similarly  energetic  in  the  world  of  affairs. 
Joseph's  first  disillusionment  came  the  evening  of 
his  arrival  in  New  York,  when  he  was  tete-a-tete  with 
Ethel  in  the  drawing-room  of  the  Hargen  mansion. 
The  usual  raptures  of  lovers'  greetings  were  past; 
there  came  a  little  silence  between  the  two,  in  which 
Joseph  contemplated  the  beautiful  face  of  the  girl 
with  esthetic  satisfaction,  if  without  exceeding  ardor. 
He  admired  intensely  the  warm  pallor  of  the  oval 
face,  with  the  curving  lips  of  scarlet,  with  the  long, 
black  lashes  that  now  veiled  the  deep  brown  of  the 
eyes.  His  glance  wandered  contentedly  over  the 
lithe  slenderness  of  her  form,  curving,  seductively  in 
the  throne-like  chair  that  was  her  favorite.  Then, 
his  thoughts  went  again  to  the  new  purpose  on 


which  he  was  determined,  and  he  opened  his  lips  to 
proclaim  the  splendid  truth  to  her. 

Ethel,  however,  forestalled  him.  There  was  an 
ominous  tightening  of  the  charming  lips;  a  note  of 
hardness  sounded  in  the  low,  musical  voice. 

"There  have  been  such  horrid  reports  about  you, 
Joe,"  she  declared,  crisply.  She  flashed  him  a  sudden 
glance  from  widened  eyes.  "I  hope  I'm  not  a  prude, 
but,  really — well,  perhaps,  you've  been  overdoing 
things  rather  on  the  other  side."  There  was  a  gloss 
of  amiability  in  her  manner  of  reproof,  but  more  than 
a  hint  of  tartness  lay  underneath. 

"Why,  I  fancy  I  have  been  a  little  frisky,"  Joseph 
admitted,  cheerfully.  "I  was  out  for  a  bit  of  a  fling 
before  settling  down,  and  I  guess  I  had  it." 

"I  guess  you  did!"  Ethel  ejaculated.  The  tartness 
was  quite  undisguised  now.  "It  was,  naturally, 
rather  unpleasant  for  me." 

"Oh,  see  here,"  the  lover  expostulated;  "there 
never  was  anything  to  bother  you  —  not  actually, 
you  know.  There  never  was  any  scandal,  or  any- 
thing like  that.  Of  course,  the  newspaper  gossip 
chaffed  me  a  bit  now  and  then.  But  there  was  never 
a  word  of  —  er  —  of  women  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  nothing  for  you  to  fret  over." 


22  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

The  set  expression  of  the  girl's  face  did  not  soften. 

"It  was  very  annoying,"  she  declared,  coldly. 
"There  were  cables  about  this  and  that  —  your  follies 
they  were  called.  And  there  were  any  number  of 
pages  in  the  dreadful  Sunday  supplements,  which 
everybody  read,  of  course,  and  talked  about  to  me. 
There  has  been  no  danger  of  my  forgetting  you  for 
a  day.  There  has  always  been  somebody  to  remind 
me  of  just  the  kind  of  thing  that  you  were  doing." 

"I'm  mighty  sorry  that  you  were  troubled  in  any 
way,"  the  young  man  answered,  with  obvious  sincer- 
ity. "Somehow,  I  never  thought  of  that  part  of  it. 
I  didn't  think  I  was  important  enough  to  stir  up 
matters  over  here  to  such  an  extent.  Forgive  me, 
dear.  I  promise  you  I  won't  do  it  again."  He  was 
really  contrite,  for  his  own  conscience  justified  the 
girl's  accusation. 

Ethel,  however,  was  disinclined  to  absolve  him 
from  his  sins  quite  so  readily.  Her  severity  of  man- 
ner did  not  relax  in  response  to  his  plea. 

"You  were  so  absurdly  extravagant !"  she  went  on, 
petulantly.  "There  was  a  quotation  from  one  of  the 
Paris  papers,  which  told  how  they  called  you,  'Le 
Sport'  Joseph.  Such  a  stupid  name!" 


SPORT  JOSEPH  AT  HOME         23 

"Well,  anyhow,  I  didn't  invent  it,"  the  badgered 
lover  retorted. 

"You  were  the  cause  of  it  by  your  conduct,"  came 
the  logical  answer,  delivered  with  finality.  "And  that 
same  paper  made  a  calculation  as  to  how  much  money 
you  had  spent  in  the  year.  It  was  a  million  dollars! 
Think  of  it  —  a  million  dollars,  wasted!" 

"It  wasn't  a  million  dollars,"  Joseph  protested. 
But  his  tone  was  unconvincingly  feeble,  for  he  re- 
membered that  the  estimate  had  been  close  —  very 
close!  —  to  the  truth.  "Anyhow,"  he  went  on  sulk- 
ily, "it  was  my  money,  so  why  shouldn't  I  blow  in  a 
bit  of  it,  once  in  a  way?" 

There  was  scorn  in  the  girl's  dusky  eyes  as  she  re- 
garded the  speaker. 

"A  bit  of  it!"  she  exclaimed.  "Why,  uncle  said 
that  such  enormous  expenditure  on  your  part  actual- 
ly crippled  the  business  of  the  firm." 

The  young  man  was,  at  last,  aroused  to  anger. 
Hitherto,  justice  had  been  against  his  defense;  now, 
however,  the  accusation  had  become  unfair.  It  was 
a  relief  to  speak  in  his  own  behalf  with  honest  wrath. 

"Now,  see  here,  Ethel,"  he  commanded  hotly; 
"you're  talking  utter  nonsense!  What  I've  spent  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  finances  of  the  firm — noth- 


24  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

ing  whatever.  You  ought  to  have  sense  enough  to 
know  that.  Anyhow,  your  uncle  has.  You've  simply 
twisted  something  the  old  gentleman  said.  I  fancy 
he  said  enough.  But  don't  get  things  mixed  again 
in  that  way,  my  dear.  I  can  go  out  and  spend  a  few 
more  millions  if  I  like  without  touching  the  firm's 
money." 

The  explosion  did  Joseph's  wounded  feelings  a  vast 
deal  of  good.  In  another  moment,  he  had  recovered 
his  usual  good-nature.  The  association  of  ideas  re- 
called to  him  his  delayed  purpose  of  explanation  to 
Ethel  concerning  entrance  on  a  business  career. 
Forthwith,  he  addressed  her  gayly,  proudly. 

"Dearest,"  he  began  in  a  tender  voice,  "I  have 
some  good  news  for  you,  something  that  will  make 
you  very,  very  happy." 

The  girl  sprang  up  eagerly,  her  mood  of  criticism 
all  dispelled  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  She  came 
close  to  his  chair,  and  stood  looking  down  on  him 
with  radiant  eyes.  Her  pliant  body  was  tense  in 
expectancy;  her  lips  bent  to  a  winsome  smile. 

"Oh,  what  is  it?"  she  questioned.  Her  voice  was 
a  caress.  "Tell  me,  please,  Joe."  Undoubtedly,  it 
was  something  gorgeous  from  the  rue  de  la  Paix. 
Her  imagination  hurried  fondly  over  marvels  in  dia- 


SPORT  JOSEPH  AT  HOME        25 

monds,  rubies,  emeralds,  pearls.  Her  betrothed  must 
have  bought  for  her  something"  peculiarly  sumptuous 
to  offset  that  senseless  expenditure  of  a  million. 

"Why,  it's  this  way,"  the  ill-fated  lover  explained. 
He,  too,  stood  up.  He  took  Ethel's  hands  in  his 
and  pressed  them.  His  form  was  held  bravely  erect, 
as  that  of  one  about  to  do  battle  with  the  world  and 
to  conquer  it.  There  was  something  almost  pompous 
now  in  his  tones  as  he  ventured  the  momentous  state- 
ment of  his  resolve.  "I  have  decided  to  engage  ac- 
tively in  the  business  which  I  have  inherited  from 
my  father." 

For  an  interval  of  seconds,  the  girl  stared  uncom- 
prehendingly  into  the  young  man's  animated  face. 
Then,  she  snapped  a  single  word: 

"What?" 

Joseph  repeated  his  declaration,  slowly,  emphati- 
cally. He  was  not  astonished  or  distressed  in  any 
way  by  her  evident  dismay  in  the  face  of  this  informa- 
tion. The  shock  of  a  fact  so  stupendous  might  well 
startle  and  alarm  a  maiden  utterly  unprepared.  But, 
presently,  he  became  doubtful  as  to  the  correctness 
of  his  idea  in  this  instance.  He  perceived  with  grow- 
ing consternation  that  his  fiancee's  face  had  hardened. 
She  pulled  her  hands  from  his  clasp,  and  returned  to 


26  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

her  chair,  where  she  cast  herself  down  with  a  flounc- 
ing movement  that  was  significant.  Sadly  puzzled, 
the  lover  resumed  his  seat,  whence  he  stared  re- 
proachfully. 

"Now,  Ethel,"  he  coaxed,  "please  don't—" 

The  girl  did  not  scruple  to  interrupt  rudely. 

"Joseph  Holbrooke,"  she  stormed,  her  eyes  gleam- 
ing dangerously,  "whatever  put  such  a  silly  notion 
into  that  foolish  head  of  yours?  The  idea  —  going 
into  business,  indeed  —  you!  Pooh!"  The  sole  of 
her  golden  slipper  was  beating  a  tattoo  of  temper  on 
the  rug. 

Naturally  enough,  these  pointed  remarks  were  not 
gratifying  to  a  young  gentleman  who  usually  enjoyed 
a  good  conceit  of  himself.  He  stiffened  in  his  chair; 
he  thrust  his  chin  forward  a  little,  belligerently;  he 
drew  his  brows  in  a  frown.  For  once,  Joseph  was 
deeply  displeased  with  the  girl  whom  he  loved.  He 
could  endure  tantrums  in  an  easy-going  fashion  all 
his  own;  but  this  fault  in  her  now  was  something 
fundamental.  It  was  painfully  evident  that  she  had 
no  appreciation  whatsoever  of  the  grave  responsibili- 
ties laid  upon  him  by  his  blood.  She  was  totally  un- 
sympathetic with  the  duty  that  had  come  to  him 
by  inheritance.  He  forgot  the  recentness  of  his  own 


SPORT  JOSEPH  AT  HOME        27 

awakening  under  the  words  of  the  Marquis  de 
Brensac,  and  he  blamed  Ethel  with  unreasoning 
violence. 

"Your  remarks  show  a  deplorable  lack  of  interest 
in  the  really  important  things  of  life,"  he  said,  sharp- 
ly. "I  have  spoken  to  you  as  to  my  plans.  I  mean 
to  attend  to  my  duties.  I  shall  take  them  up  at  once. 
Your  failure  to  respect  my  purpose  will  make  no  dif- 
ference in  my  carrying  it  out.  But,  perhaps,  if  you 
think  me  so  entirely  incompetent,  it  would  be  bet- 
ter—" 

Ethel  Hargen  was  wise  in  her  own  way,  although 
on  occasion  indiscreet.  Moreover,  Joseph  Holbrooke 
was  too  good  a  parti  to  be  thrown  away  for  a  mo- 
ment's whim.  She  had  no  intention  of  letting  him 
complete  a  sentence  that  might  be  so  offensive  to  her 
dignity  as  to  require  the  breaking  of  their  engage- 
ment. So,  now,  she  interrupted  swiftly,  with  an  amaz- 
ing change  of  manner.  Her  scarlet  lips  were  allur- 
ing; her  eyes  were  softly  luminous;  her  voice  was  win- 
ning. 

"Oh,  Joe,  why  are  you  always  turning  me  upside 
down  with  so  many  moods?  Good  gracious!  You 
gallivant  about  Europe  in  a  blaze  of  glory.  Then, 
the  first  time  I  see  you  in  a  year,  you  scare  me  half 


28  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

to  death  by  telling  me  that  you're  going  down  to 
run  the  store.  Sympathetic!  Of  course,  I'm  not 
sympathetic.  I'm  too  much  up  in  the  air.  Explain 
it  all  to  me  slowly,  until  I  catch  my  breath.  It's 
such  a  strange  idea:  you,  in  business!"  The  words 
were  much  like  those  she  had  spoken  before,  but  now 
the  inflection  took  all  harm  from  them. 

Joseph,  being  at  heart  a  rather  guileless  youth, 
ceased  to  disapprove  so  earnestly.  Probably,  he  had 
misjudged  the  girl,  after  all.  It  was  the  duty  of  his 
superior  intelligence  to  enlighten  her  with  patience. 
...  He  did  so,  at  some  length. 

When,  finally,  he  ceased  speaking,  Ethel  nodded 
brightly. 

"I  quite  understand,"  she  declared,  and  her  tone 
was  very  fond.  "I  think  it  is  noble  of  you,  Joe." 
This  was  so  agreeable  to  hear  that  the  lover  went  to 
her,  and  kissed  her,  gratefully.  He  was  well  content 
with  all  things  as  he  returned  again  to  his  chair.  "Of 
course,  you  must  go  slowly  at  first." 

"Never  fear!"  was  the  confident  response.  "I  know 
that  I  have  a  lot  to  learn.  I  sha'n't  try  things  off  my 
own  bat  until  I've  nosed  about  a  bit."  He  smiled 
complacently,  utterly  unashamed  of  the  atrocious 
metaphor. 


SPORT  JOSEPH  AT  HOME        29 

Ethel  could  not  quite  contrive  a  blush  for  her  next 
endeavor,  but  she  dropped  her  eyes  in  an  apt  sem- 
blance of  maidenly  confusion,  and  her  voice  was  very 
low,  with  faltering  words: 

"Perhaps  —  you  will  begin  —  it  will  be  after  —  " 
She  broke  off,  her  face  turned  away. 

Joseph  understood  her  vague  reference  perfectly, 
and  a  warm  glow  of  conscious  virtue  in  renunciation 
stole  through  him.  The  girl  was  very  beautiful,  and 
he  loved  her  with  all  his  heart  and  soul.  Only  the 
sternest  devotion  to  duty  could  enable  him  to  refuse 
for  the  present  the  happiness  at  which  she  thus  con- 
fusedly hinted.  He  replied  to  her  with  extreme 
tenderness: 

"My  darling,  we  must  delay  the  bliss  of  our  union. 
It  is  not  right  that  I  should  take  you  now,  before 
I  have  proved  myself.  I  must  do  my  duty  first. 
Then,  when  I  have  shown  myself  worthy,  I  shall 
come  to  you  again,  with  a  clear  conscience." 

Joseph  rose  from  his  chair,  and  again  kissed  his 
betrothed,  who  endured  the  caress  with  an  appear- 
ance of  responsiveness  that  bore  witness  to  her  self- 
control,  for  she  was  furious.  But  she  said  nothing 
in  answer.  What  was  there  to  say  at  such  a  time  to 
such  a  man?  Once  her  husband,  he  might  grovel  in 


30  'MAGGIE   PEPPER 

an  office  through  eternity  for  all  she  cared.  But  she 
had  meant  to  marry  him  immediately  after  his  return 
from  abroad.  The  absurd  whim  that  possessed  him 
bade  fair  to  wreck  her  hopes.  Her  uncle,  fond  of  her 
as  he  was,  could  not  afford  to  gratify  extravagant 
tastes,  of  which  she  had  a  plenty.  She  was  very 
anxious  herself  for  the  spending  of  a  million  rapidly. 
Alas!  when  she  suggested  marriage,  he  prated  of 
duty.  If  her  beauty  were  not  a  sufficient  answer, 
what,  indeed,  could  she  say  to  a  man  like  that? 

It  was  fortunate  for  Joseph  Holbrooke's  self- 
esteem  that  no  telepathy  taught  him  the  thoughts  of 
the  girl  as  she  lay  in  his  arms,  her  scarlet  lips  softly 
yielding  under  his  kisses. 


CHAPTER   III 

JAKE   DISCOURSES 

THE  influence  of  that  involuntary  agent  of  destiny, 
the  Marquis  de  Brensac,  extended  ultimately  even  to 
Jacob  Rothschild,  jobber,  of  New  York. 

Jake,  as  he  was  widely,  if  not  always  favorably, 
known  in  Metropolitan  trade  circles,  had  achieved 
notoriety  by  the  number  and  ingenuity  of  his  failures 
and  revivals.  He  was  a  flamboyant  person,  glorying 
always  in  the  impressiveness  of  his  raiment,  which  was 
unrestrained  by  finical  notions  of  good  taste.  Jewelry 
was  a  delight  to  him,  and  no  niggardly  habit  of  con- 
cealment caused  him  to  store  away  his  collection  in 
safe-deposit  vaults.  On  the  contrary,  he  persistently 
carried  it  about  with  him  on  all  business  and  social 
expeditions,  and  proudly  exhibited  it  to  everyone 
having  eyes  to  see:  that  is  to  say,  he  wore  it  strewn 
over  his  person  as  conspicuously  as  possible.  When 
there  was  opportunity,  which  he  was  not  reluctant  to 
create,  he  multiplied  the  price  by  two  or  three,  and 
told  it  with  joyous  candor.  In  his  business  pursuits, 

31 


32  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

Jake  relied  extensively  on  an  obtrusiveness  that  was 
nigh  irrepressible.  He  was  not  troubled  by  a  shy, 
unassertive  manner.  He  craved  attention,  he  de- 
manded it,  he  clamored  for  it.  Because  he  got  it, 
he  regarded  his  methods  as  perfect.  He  treated  all 
rebuffs  by  inversion :  invited  to  go,  he  stayed ;  abused, 
he  felt  himself  complimented ;  insults  seemed  to  afford 
him  particular  gratification.  In  his  way,  he  was  an 
entertaining  nuisance.  It  was,  perhaps,  for  this  reason 
that  he  was  tolerated  to  a  surprising  extent.  Then, 
too,  however  little  else  he  knew,  Jake  had  a  compre- 
hensive knowledge  of  women's  gowns.  For  that,  he 
commanded  respect  in  the  business  world. 

It  was  the  morning  after  Joseph's  return  home  that 
Jake  set  forth  for  one  of  his  periodic  onslaughts  on 
Holbrooke  and  Company's  gown-department.  He  was 
aware  that  the  buyer  for  the  department  had  just 
resigned,  and  he  was  minded  to  lose  no  time  in 
impressing  his  personality  on  her  successor. 

"It  will  be  Maggie  Pepper,  sure,  for  the  place,"  he 
mused,  as  he  armed  himself  for  the  fray  by  picking 
up  his  jobber's  case  and  making  sure  that  the  passes 
for  the  latest  theatrical  failure  were  ready  in  a  waist- 
coat pocket.  "It  would  be  a  pleasure  to  do  business 
with  her  —  only,  she  knows  too  much.  If  I  can  get 


JAKE  DISCOURSES  33 

her  to  take  that  line  of "  His  further  reflections 

were  wholly  of  a  confidential  nature,  of  interest  to  none 
save  himself  or  the  buyer  he  hoped  to  wheedle  into 
folly. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  department  store,  Jake  ascended 
in  the  elevator  to  the  stock-room  of  the  gown-depart- 
ment, although  it  was  after  eleven  o'clock,  and  the 
rules  of  the  establishment  forbade  his  presence  there, 
once  that  hour  was  past.  The  reconnoitering  glance 
which  he  cast  about  as  he  stepped  from  the  elevator 
showed  him  that  the  room  was  empty  except  for  Hattie 
Murphy,  who  had  charge  of  the  stock,  and  a  girl 
assistant.  The  jobber  regarded  Miss  Murphy  for  a 
minute  with  a  speculative  eye. 

"She's  a  good  friend  of  Maggie  Pepper's,"  he 
observed  to  himself.  "It's  business  to  jolly  her  along 
a  little.  Good-looker,  too.  Thirty,  pug,  red  hair, 
complexion  O.K.,  some  shape,  sassy  Irish  temper. 
Huh !  Might  take  her  out  sometime,  if  Maggie  throws 
me  down." 

He  walked  forward  nimbly,  and  his  smile  was  expan- 
sive, as  Hattie  glanced  up  at  him. 

"Good-morning,"  he  called,  cheerfully.  His  manner 
betrayed  no  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  the  welcome  await- 


34  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

ing  him  there.     "I  dropped  in  to  see  Miss  Pepper. 
What?" 

Hattie  displayed  no  pleasure  over  the  jobber's 
arrival.  Instead,  she  frankly  scowled  at  him,  and 
went  on  arranging  tags  for  some  new  dresses  which 
the  girl  had  just  brought  in. 

"She's  busy,"  was  her  curt  answer;  "I'm  busy; 
everybody's  busy.  Go  out  and  get  busy  yourself." 

"Oh,  I  have  lots  of  time,"  Jake  replied,  blandly. 
He  put  down  the  case,  and  came  close  to  Hattie,  who  ~ 
did  not  look  up  from  her  work,  until,  with  a  sudden 
movement,  he  shot  his  cuffs  out  under  her  bent  face. 
As  she  stared  involuntarily  at  the  huge  amethyst 
buttons,  set  in  deep-chased  gold,  the  jobber  recounted 
their  virtues  glibly.  "Some  buttons!  What?  Cost 
sixteen  dollars  —  lend  thirteen." 

"Lend  thirteen  ?"  Hattie  repeated,  puzzled. 

"That's  it,"  Jake  declared.  "Never  you  buy  jewelry, 
Miss  Murphy,  unless  you  know  just  what  it  will  bring 
to  hock.  You  never  can  tell.  .  .  .  When  will  Miss 
Pepper  be  in?"  He  seated  himself  jauntily  on  an 
adjacent  counter. 

"I  don't  know,"  Hattie  replied,  in  a  voice  that  was 
meant  to  be  discouraging.  "Anyhow,  you  can't  wait  for 


JAKE  DISCOURSES  35 

her  here.  You  know  perfectly  well  that  no  drummers 
are  allowed  in  the  stock-room  after  eleven  o'clock." 

The  undaunted  jobber  spread  out  his  hands  in  a 
gesture  of  disdain. 

"My  dear  Miss  Murphy,"  he  expostulated,  "is  it 
possible  that  you  don't  know  the  difference  between  a 
drummer  and  a  jobber-and-importer,  like  myself?" 

The  blue  eyes  of  the  woman,  though  still  fast  on  the 
tags,  twinkled. 

"Why,  yes,  I  know,"  she  retorted.  "A  drummer  has 
nerve,  but  a  jobber  has  the  gall  of  a  mule." 

"I'll  tell  that  to  the  next  jobber  I  meet,"  Jake  de- 
clared, gratefully.  "Oh,  it's  the  Irish  for  wit."  He 
waited  for  a  moment,  but  Hattie  showed  no  sign  of 
having  heard  the  compliment.  "I  hear  that  the  suit- 
buyer  has  left,"  he  continued.  "I  suppose  Miss  Pepper 
will  get  the  vacancy.  Will  she?" 

Hattie  yielded  to  the  inevitable;  but  she  made  her 
answer  as  unpleasant  as  possible. 

"That's  Miss  Pepper's  business  —  none  of  yours." 

The  visitor  decided  that  the  present  was  an  excellent 
time  to  employ  strategy.  He  slipped  from  his  position 
on  the  counter,  and  again  approached  Hattie. 

"Can  you  use  a  couple  of  tickets  for  the  theater?" 
he  asked.  His  tone  was  unctuously  generous,  and  the 


36  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

gesture  with  which  he  held  out  the  bit  of  paper  was  as 
lordly  as  if  he  were  offering  something  of  value. 

The  one  whom  he  had  selected  as  the  recipient  of 
his  bounty  cast  one  swift,  appraising  glance  on  the 
order-slip.  Her  answer  was  unambiguous. 

"Fade  away  with  'em.  A  cheap  skate  stuck  me 
with  six  of  the  same  last  week.  The  show's  rotten." 

For  once,  Jake  was  moved  to  show  emotion  in  the 
face  of  adversity.  His  usual  speech  was  not  of  a  sort 
to  reveal  his  descent,  but  in  this  instant  of  indignation 
pronunciation  suffered. 

"Veil,  you  don't  need  to  get  huffy!  Vot?"  Then, 
by  an  effort  he  regained  control  of  his  vocal  organs, 
as  he  went  on  speaking  vindictively;  while  his  eyes 
roamed  the  display  of  stock.  "No  wonder  Hol- 
brooke and  Company  are  losing  money  here.  It's 
a  shame,  the  rubbishy  stock  they  buy  —  the  most  rub- 
bishy stock!  .  .  .  Look  at  this!"  He  had  moved  to 
one  of  the  counters,  where  he  stood  fingering  a  coat. 
"I  don't  want  to  knock  anybody  else's  goods,  but  I 
just  ask  you,  Miss  Murphy,  who  sold  you  that  ?  Why, 
that  truck,  it  looks  to  me  like  Hermann  Shimka. 
What?" 

Hattie  vouchsafed  a  word  of  warning  to  the  critic : 

"You'd  better  not  let  Mr.  Hargen  see  you  there,  or 


JAKE  DISCOURSES  37 

you'll  hustle  downstairs,  all  right  —  by  the  window 
route." 

"Oh,  Hargen,"  the  jobber  announced,  airily;  "he's 
a  friend  of  mine.  But  that  Shimka,  now,  he  ought 
to  be  in  jail.  The  goods  he  turns  out!  It's  a  crime. 
Did  you  see  this  collar?  Did ?" 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  one  of  the 
models,  a  handsome  girl,  who  appeared  from  the  ele- 
vator, wearing  a  cloak. 

"This  has  to  go  to  the  repairing-room,"  she  ex- 
plained to  Hattie.  "It  ripped  up  the  back  when  I  was 
just  trying  it  on  —  no  strain  at  all  on  it.  The  jobber 
ought  to  be  arrested." 

Jake  hurried  to  the  girl's  side  in  evident  agitation, 
and  scrutinized  the  garment,  eagerly.  His  eyes  lighted ; 
his  broad  grin  was  triumphant. 

"She  said  he  ought  to  be  arrested.  That  sounded 
to  me  like  Shimka  —  and  it  is  Shimka !" 

The  model  plainly  resented  the  manner  in  which 
Jake  examined  the  cloak  she  wore,  and  she  favored 
the  elated  jobber  with  a  withering  stare,  which  failed 
utterly  in  its  intended  effect. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said,  with  her  most  mag- 
nificent manner  of  haughtiness. 


38  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

Jake  condescended  to  appease  her  by  introducing 
himself  —  after  a  fashion. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  he  explained,  buoyantly;  "I'm 
a  friend  of  Miss  Murphy's." 

"Come  again!"  Hattie  snapped.  "Friend,  indeed! 
I'd  have  you  know,  Mr.  Rothschild,  that  two  passes 
for  a  bum  show  don't  constitute  friendship  —  not  for 
yours  truly." 

"Next  time,"  the  jobber  promised,  unabashed,  "I'll 
bring  you  a  box  for  the  opera."  But  he  was  discreet 
enough  to  withdraw  to  a  distance  from  the  two  women, 
who  chatted  together  without  giving  him  further  atten- 
tion for  the  moment  .  .  .  The  model  had  news  of 
which  she  was  eager  to  unburden  herself. 

"Did  you  know  that  young  Holbrooke's  back  from 
Europe?"  she  questioned.  "Got  back  yesterday." 

"Is  that  so?"  Hattie  exclaimed.  Her  blue  eyes 
widened  and  darkened  with  excitement.  "Just  to  think, 
»  he  owns  it  —  the  business.  He's  the  real  boss!" 

The  model  shook  her  head  in  negation. 

"Nothing  in  it  for  him,"  she  declared,  sagely.  "All 
he  wants  is  the  money."  Her  voice  grew  enthusiastic 
as  she  continued :  "I  guess,  from  all  I  can  hear,  that 
Mr.  Joseph  Holbrooke's  a  bit  of  a  sport." 


JAKE  DISCOURSES  39 

This  statement  was  more  than  Jake  could  endure 
in  silence. 

"A  bit  of  a  sport,  eh?"  he  ejaculated.  "A  fat  lot 
you  know  about  it.  Why,  he's  run  through  a  million 
dollars  inside  of  a  year  across  the  pond.  I  know  — 
I  read  it  in  a  paper." 

Further  discussion  as  to  the  sporting  proclivities  of 
Joseph  were  interrupted  by  the  coming  of  Mrs. 
Thatcher,  the  store-detective,  a  modishly  gowned,  alert- 
appearing  woman  of  middle  age.  She  addressed  the 
model,  while  Hattie  returned  to  her  work. 

"Whenever  that  woman  you  waited  on  just  now 
comes  in  again,  miss,  you  let  me  know." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  she  ain't  all  right!" 
the  model  exclaimed,  in  great  astonishment.  "Why, 
it  can't  be." 

"I'm  paid  to  know  who  is  all  right  and  who  isn't, 
Miss  Kelly."  Mrs.  Thatcher  spoke  with  the  emphasis 
of  one  in  authority.  "I  know  the  woman  —  that's 
enough.  Go  back  and  go  over  your  stock,  to  see  if 
anything's  missing.  If  there  is,  report  to  me  instantly." 

"Well,  for  heaven's  sake!"  the  model  protested. 
"And  she  looked  like  an  uptown  swell  —  like  a  —  a 
clergyman's  daughter  —  or  something  top-notch  in  the 
goody  line,  anyhow." 


40  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"That's  how  much  you  know  about  it!"  Mrs. 
Thatcher's  voice  was  scornful.  "My  dear,  I've  caught 
her  twice  with  the  goods  on  —  while  I  was  at  Halt- 
man's.  .  .  .  Remember,  now:  if  she  turns  up  again, 
you  let  me  know."  She  moved  away  and  seated  herself 
at  a  desk. 

The  model  walked  off,  murmuring  wonder  to  her- 
self: 

"Well,  for  the  love  of  heaven  —  with  them  baby 
eyes!" 

Jake,  who  with  great  reluctance  had  held  aloof 
during  the  period  of  the  detective's  talk  with  the  model, 
now  hastened  forward,  his  face  wreathed  in  smiles  of 
happy  greeting. 

"Mrs.  Thatcher,  this  is  indeed  a  pleasure!" 

"Really?"  The  note  of  interrogation  in  the  mono- 
syllable was  not  encouraging. 

Jake,  however,  was  not  one  to  yield  before  a  lack  of 
welcome. 

"Don't  you  remember  me?"  he  inquired,  affably. 
"I'm  a  friend  of  Miss  Pepper's,  you  know  —  Jake 
Rothschild,  of  Rothschild,  Doblin  and  Company,  Im- 
porters, Jobbers,  and——" 

"Chronic  bankrupts!" 

"Oh,  excuse  me,"  Jake  replied,  not  a  whit  dismayed. 


JAKE  DISCOURSES  41 

"We  got  our  discharge.  To-day,  ma'am,  we're  as 
solvent  as  Pierpont  Morgan  and  Company.  .  .  .  Say, 
now" — he  again  exhibited  the  theater  pass — "here's 
two  tickets  for  a  fine  show.  What?"  But  even  his 
callousness  was  penetrated  by  the  contemptuous  glance 
she  flung  him.  "Ah,  well,  all  right,"  he  went  on, 
hastily.  "Don't  like  the  theater,  eh?.  .  .  .  How  is  the 
greatest  lady  detective  in  the  United  States  —  I  mean, 
in  the  world?  What?  .  .  .  Say,  is  Miss  Pepper  going 
to  get  the  buyer's  place  ?  I  want  to  get  it  straight." 

Mrs.  Thatcher  permitted  herself  a  cynical  smile, 
as  she  answered: 

"I  thought  she  was  such  a  friend  of  yours !" 

"So  she  is,  ma'am  —  so  she  is,  sure!" 

"Then,  ask  her." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  imperturbable  jobber,  grate- 
fully, "I  will."  He  continued  in  his  most  confidential 
manner:  "And  now,  please,  Mrs.  Thatcher,  I  wish 
you'd  tell  me  —  it'll  just  be  between  you  and  I,  you 
know  —  is  it  true  that  Holbrooke  and  Company  is  on 
the  blink?" 

The  detective  regarded  the  questioner  for  an  instant 
with  a  shrewd,  appraising  glance. 

"On  the  what?"  she  asked,  evasively. 

"On  the  blink,"  Jake  repeated,  firmly.     "There's 


42  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

some  talk  of  insolvency  going-  about.  I  hear  that  the 
business  is  really  something  awful.  It  ain't  true  — 
no  ?  Of  course  not,  eh  ?  Only  rumor !  What  ?" 

Mrs.  Thatcher  stared  straight  into  the  jobber's  bead- 
like  eyes. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Rothschild,"  she  said,  coldly. 

"Now,  you  listen!"  Jake  urged,  plaintively.  "I've 
got  a  line  of  real  Parisian  goods  that  won't  wear  out." 

The  detective  sprang  up  impatiently,  and  hurried 
toward  Hattie. 

"You've  got  a  line  of  talk  that  won't  wear  out," 
she  threw  over  her  shoulder  at  the  baffled  jobber.  She 
spoke  to  the  girl  for  a  moment,  and  then  made  her 
escape  into  the  elevator. 

Jake  watched  her  departure  in  an  admiration  blended 
with  regret. 

"I  could  have  talked  with  her  some  more,"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself.  "She's  a  smart  woman,  she  is. 
But,  by  golly,  it  ain't  natural  —  so  much  brains  in  a 
woman."  He  shook  his  head  disconsolately,  and  looked 
about  him  for  another  victim. 


CHAPTER   IV 

AT   HOLBROOKE  AND   COMPANY'S 

AFTER  the  evening  with  Joseph,  in  which  he  made 
known  his  business  ambition,  Ethel  Hargen  passed 
a  night  full  of  wakefulness  and  distress.  Despite  her 
lack  of  rest,  however,  she  appeared  early  at  the  break- 
fast-table, for  she  was  anxious  to  consult  with  her 
uncle  as  to  the  change  in  her  lover.  When  the 
servant  had  left  them  alone  together,  she  lost  no 
time  in  explaining  the  situation,  to  which  Hargen 
listened  with  a  frown.  Nevertheless,  when  she  had 
done,  he  seemed  inclined  to  dispose  of  the  affair  as 
merely  of  trifling  importance. 

"It's  just  a  fad  of  a  hare-brained  youngster,  who 
doesn't  know  his  own  mind  two  minutes  running," 
he  declared,  with  a  grim  smile.  He  pulled  rather 
pompously  at  one  of  the  wisps  of  white  whisker, 
which  he  wore  after  a  former  fashion,  and  continued 
with  much  acerbity.  "I  must  say  that  there  seems  a 
certain  injustice  in  the  ownership  of  a  great  com- 
pany like  Holbrooke's  by  a  mere  lad,  who  has  done 

43 


44  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

nothing  to  deserve  it,  and  will  keep  on  doing-  nothing 
until  the  end  of  the  chapter.  With  all  respect  to  your 
future  husband,  my  dear,  he  hasn't  the  brains  to  run 
the  business,  even  if  he  had  every  wish  in  the  world. 
It  is  not  given  to  everyone  to  possess  the  —  er  — 
genius  for  such  direction."  Once  again,  he  tugged 
gently  on  the  wisp  of  whisker.  Restored  to  good- 
nature by  the  compliment  he  had  just  bestowed  on 
himself,  he  even  favored  his  niece  with  a  wintry  smile. 

"There's  a  sort  of  cleverness  in  Joseph,"  Ethel  re- 
marked, musingly;  "just  enough  to  make  him  fear- 
fully foolish  in  certain  ways,  I  think."  She  regarded 
her  kinsman  from  under  knit  brows.  "I  have  an  idea, 
uncle,"  she  said  slowly,  "that  it  would  be  wise  of  you 
to  keep  an  eye  on  Joseph.  And  do  discourage  him 
from  this  stupid  fancy  of  'his  —  at  least  until  after 
we're  married." 

"Pooh!  Nonsense!"  Hargen  sputtered.  "There's 
nothing  to  it.  He'll  have  forgotten  all  his  idiotic 
ideas  in  a  week  or  less.  But  I'll  bear  what  you've  said 
in  mind,  Ethel.  Trust  me  to  put  the  notion  out  of 
his  head,  if  it  shows  any  signs  of  sticking.  I'll  ex- 
plain that  there  can  be  no  fooling  with  the  manage- 
ment of  such  vast  interests  as  ours.  I'll  put  him 
through  a  course  in  the  intricacies  of  finance  that  will 


'AT  HOLBROOKE  AND  COMPANY'S    45 

convince  him  mighty  soon  he's  not  meant  to  be  a 
business  expert." 

"But  suppose  he  should  understand?"  the  girl  sug- 
gested. 

Hargen  chuckled,  and  there  was  something  sinister 
in  the  sound  of  his  merriment.  His  thin,  white  face, 
with  the  black  eyes  set  too  close  together,  wrinkled 
into  lines  of  harshness. 

"Never  fear,"  he  said,  with  emphasis.  "I  know 
my  business :  he  won't  understand." 

Her  curiosity  as  to  Joseph's  activities  was  such 
that  Ethel  decided  to  accompany  her  uncle  when  he 
left  for  his  office.  At  the  store,  she  learned  that  the 
young  owner  was  already  on  his  rounds,  and,  leaving 
her  relation  to  his  work,  she  wandered  about  the  es- 
tablishment in  the  expectation  of  speedily  coming 
upon  her  lover.  She  would  have  had  some  of  her 
suspicions  concerning  Holbrooke  and  Company  and 
her  uncle  confirmed,  could  she  have  been  present  in 
•  the  manager's  office  during  Hargen's  interview  with 
his  confidential  man,  Murchison. 

"Well?"  was  the  query  with  which  the  factotum 
was  greeted  when  he  responded  to  his  superior's  sum- 
mons. 

Murchison  exhibited  signs  of  trepidation,  as  he  ad- 


46  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

vanced  from  the  door  to  Hargen's  desk.  There  was 
something  hatefully  pathetic  in  the  bent  figure  of 
the  old  man  —  for  old  man  he  was,  notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  his  dress  was  that  of  a  rakish  under- 
graduate. It  was  pitiable,  too,  to  observe  the  awk- 
ward briskness  of  his  carriage,  with  which  he  strove 
futilely  to  mask  the  stiffened  joints  of  senility.  .  . 
Genuine  youth  in  old  age  is  beautiful;  its  impotent 
counterfeit  is  beyond  measure  hideous.  Now, 
Murchison  essayed  to  give  jauntiness  to  his  smile,  but 
there  was  a  tremulous  timidity  in  it  not  good  to 
see,  as  he  spoke  cacklingly: 

"It's  no  mistake,  sir.  I've  investigated  thorough- 
ly, just  as  you  instructed  me  last  evening.  The  bank 
refuses  —  yes,  sir,  refuses  —  to  discount  any  more  of 
our  paper  at  this  time.  I  was  told  that  the  bank 
would  not  advance  another  penny  to  Holbrooke  and 
Company  until  all  the  old  notes  are  taken  up.  I  was 
told  so,  sir,  personally,  by  the  vice-president  of  the 
Second  National  himself,  this  morning." 

Hargen  had  listened  intently  to  the  report,  his  eyes 
downcast,  his  face  inscrutable.  But,  at  the  closing 
words,  his  manner  changed,  and  so  alarmingly  that 
the  speaker  shrank  back  affrighted.  His  black  eyes 


AT  HOLBROOKE  AND  COMPANY'S    47 

gleamed  rage,  as  he  leaned  forward ;  there  was  a  snarl 
on  his  lips;  his  voice  was  ominous. 

"What  bank  did  you  say?" 

"Why,  sir,  the  Second  National,  of  course.  You 
said " 

"Damn  you  for  a  doddering  imbecile!"  the  man- 
ager said,  with  a  cold  malignity  of  utterance  under 
which  Murchison  writhed  visibly  in  terror.  "It's 
about  time  you  were  put  on  the  shelf.  You  grow 
worse  daily  —  hourly." 

"But  you  said,  sir " 

"You  fool!  I  said  the  Third  National.  I  said  it 
distinctly,  too,  and  more  than  once,  because  I  know 
that  addled  brain  of  yours.  .  .  A  noble  bridegroom 
you'll  make!  It's  true,  isn't  it  —  this  report  that 
you're  going  to  marry  one  of  the  models?"  There 
was  no  cessation  of  the  manager's  savage  manner  as 
he  broached  the  tender  theme. 

But  Murchison  was  metamorphosed  within  the 
second.  The  quake  of  fear  left  him.  He  straightened 
his  bowed  form  a  trifle  by  a  spasm  of  will-power,  and 
he  —  smirked. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  admitted  pipingly,  with  a  fatuous 
giggle.  His  attitude  was  one  of  intolerable  self-com- 
placency. "It's  Imogene,  sir." 


48  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"Good  God!"  Hargen  ejaculated,  in  honest  disgust. 
"What  damned  fools  —  both  of  you!  A  half-dead 
human  remnant  and  a " 

"I've  been  a  bachelor  for  sixty-three  years,  sir," 
Murchison  quavered,  in  plaintive  protest;  "and  I 
thought  it  was  time  to " 

"To  make  a  drouling  maniac  of  yourself!"  Hargen 
growled. 

"Oh,  no,  sir  —  no,  indeed!  Why,  Imogene  is  a 
very  practical  girl.  And  I  have  quite  a  tidy  bit  of 
money  saved." 

"Yes,  Imogene  is  practical,"  the  manager  sneered. 

But  the  old  man  did  not  heed  the  taunt. 

"Besides,  sir,"  he  continued,  in  a  gust  of  egotisti- 
cal candor,  "it's  a  man's  duty  to  get  married.  He 
owes  it,  sir,  to  posterity." 

Hargen  forgot  wrath  in  stark  amazement.  He 
stared  at  the  speaker  for  a  long  moment  with  dis- 
tended eyes;  then,  he  groaned  aloud  two  words: 

"Your  posterity!" 

There  was  silence  between  the  two  for  a  little 
while.  It  was  broken  at  last  by  the  manager.  His 
tones  now  were  kindlier  than  before,  but  in  them  was 
an  authority  that  was  menacing. 

"Well,  see  to  it  that  you  don't  neglect  your  duties 


AT  HOLBROOKE  AND  COMPANY'S    49 

here,  Murchison.  .  .  Go  to  the  Third  National  Bank 
at  once,  and  see  the  president  himself.  I  don't  mean 
the  cashier.  You  are  to  see  the  president  himself. 
Do  you  understand?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  came  the  humble  answer;  "I  quite  un- 
derstand." 

Hargen  spoke  again  in  warning: 

"Another  mistake  like  the  one  you've  just  made 
this  morning,  and  I  shall  be  compelled  to  ask  you  for 
your  resignation.  You  are  becoming  wholly  unreli- 
able." 

"Oh,  don't  say  that,  sir,"  the  old  man  begged. 
"It's  only  that  I've  been  a  little  remiss  just  to-day. 
You  see,  sir,  to-morrow  is  my  wedding-day,  and  I'm 
sort  of  confused-like  on  that  account.  It's  quite  an 
undertaking  for  me,  sir.  .  .  I  assure  you,  sir,  I  sha'n't 
forget  again." 

Murchison  started  toward  the  door  with  steps  that 
dragged,  despite  his  best  intent;  but,  before  he  quite 
reached  it,  he  was  confronted  by  Joseph,  who  entered 
hastily,  only  to  stop  short  as  his  eyes  fell  on  the  de- 
crepit figure  of  the  clerk. 

"Hello,  Murchison!"  the  young  man  cried  heartily, 
with  extended  hand.  His  smile  was  very  winning,  as 


50  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

he  inquired  kindly  concerning  the  old  employee's 
health  and  happiness. 

The  answers  were  rather  incoherent.  Murchison 
was  quite  at  a  loss  concerning  the  identity  of  the 
newcomer,  and,  too,  he  was  fearful  of  rebuke  from 
Hargen  for  this  delay  in  the  execution  of  his  mission. 
Yet,  he  showed  few  symptoms  of  relief  when  Joseph, 
who  perceived  the  clerk's  confusion,  made  himself 
known. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Holbrooke,  sir.  Ah,  welcome  back  from 
Europe,  sir."  He  slipped  toward  the  door,  with  a 
certain  deprecatory  stealthiness  of  movement.  "You 
look  so  foreign-like,  sir,  I  didn't  recognize  you,  just 
for  a  second.  You  will  excuse  me  now,  sir  —  my 
work  —  "  and  he  was  gone. 

Joseph  smiled  over  the  eccentricity  of  the  ancient 
chap,  as  he  deemed  it,  and  turned  to  Hargen,  who 
regarded  him  with  an  inscrutable  expression.  At 
once,  however,  the  manager  spoke,  and  there  was  a 
plenty  of  cordiality  in  his  voice. 

"Ethel  came  down  with  me,"  he  explained.  "She 
said  that  you  would  be  here  to-day,  and  she  antici- 
pated the  pleasure  of  showing  you  about."  There 
was  paternal  affection  in  the  smile  he  bestowed  on 


AT  HOLBROOKE  AND  COMPANY'S    51 

Joseph,  the  while  he  plucked  tenderly  at  the  wisp  of 
whisker. 

The  young  owner  seemed  very  slightly,  if  at  all, 
impressed  by  his  associate's  amiability  and  that  of 
Ethel.  He  advanced  to  the  desk,  and  leaned  upon 
it,  looking  down  meditatively  at  Hargen's  face.  His 
voice,  when  he  spoke,  was  pleasant,  yet  decisive: 

"I  don't  want  to  be  shown  around  —  not  by  any- 
one. You  see,  I  want  to  find  my  own  way.  I  want 
to  investigate  for  myself.  I  mean  to  learn  every  de- 
tail, beginning  at  the  basement."  He  seated  himself 
in  leisurely  fashion  on  the  desk,  and  gazed  medita- 
tively out  of  the  window  for  a  few  moments.  When 
he  spoke  again,  there  was  a  whimsical  note  in  his 
voice,  although  it  still  rang  with  determination. 
"The  man  of  pleasure  has  now  become  the  man  of 
business.  Henceforth,  it  is  my  laudable  intention  to 
make  money,  not  to  spend  it.  Joe  Holbrooke,  late 
of  Paris,  is  now  Joe  Holbrooke,  of  New  York,  and 
he  proposes  to  attend  strictly  to  business.  .  .  And, 
by  the  way,  what  a  fearfully  homely  lot  of  women 
you  have  in  this  place.  Why,  with  the  exception  of 
one  little  girl  in  the  jewelry  department,  there  isn't 
a  decently  pretty  face  in  the  whole  bunch " 


52  'MAGGIE   PEPPER 

Hargen  had  stiffened  in  his  chair.  His  tone  rasped 
as  he  interrupted: 

"You  will  please  remember,  Joseph,  that  you  are 
engaged  to  my  niece,  and  that,  therefore,  you  should 
not  notice " 

The  young  man  interrupted  in  his  turn: 

"Oh,  nonsense!  One  really  can't  help  noticing, 
you  know.  For  my  own  part,  I  admit  frankly  that 
the  absence  of  beauty  means  the  creation  of  a  vacuum 
around  me.  .  .  In  a  place  like  this,  in  my  opinion, 
the  women  should  be  particularly  attractive.  This 
abundance  of  ugliness  all  around  the  shop  offends  my 
esthetic  sense." 

The  manager  cast  a  dour  look  on  the  self-satisfied 
critic. 

"I  venture  the  opinion  that  your  business  sense 
will  be  offended  when  you  find  that  Holbrooke  and 
Company's  stock  won't  fetch  a  dollar  in  the  market." 

"I'm  not  worrying  over  that,"  was  the  retort.  "I 
have  no  wish  to  sell." 

But  Hargen  was  resolved  to  continue  the  subject, 
which  by  a  twist  of  ingenuity  he  had  brought  into 
the  conversation. 

"Business  is  very  bad,"  he  declared,  with  a  lugu- 
brious shake  of  the  head;  "very  bad,  indeed.  At 


AT  HOLBROOKE  AND  COMPANY'S    53 

present,  it  even  seems  as  if  we  might  be  compelled 
to  yield  our  field  to  some  competitor  with  greater 
capital  at  his  back.  If  we  could  obtain  a  fair  price, 
it  would  be  the  safe  course  to  pursue." 

Joseph  waved  his  hand  rebukingly.  There  was 
conviction  in  his  voice  as  he  combatted  the  other's 
view. 

"The  business  will  get  better,"  he  prophesied, 
bravely.  "You'll  see!  I  shall  restore  it  to  its  former 
flourishing  condition." 

"How?"  The  single  word  was  pregnant  with  con- 
temptuous scepticism. 

"Oh,  as  to  that,  now  —  why,  I  haven't  the  re- 
motest idea,  yet."  The  young  man  made  the  con- 
fession without  any  trace  of  embarrassment.  "But 
I  know  this:  If  I  put  the  same  amount  of  energy  into 
work  that  I  did  into  pleasure,  something  big  ought 
to  come  of  it  —  that's  all!" 

The  smile  with  which  Hargen  received  the  bold  as- 
sertion was  almost  an  open  sneer. 

"Let  us  hope  so,  at  least,"  he  said,  dryly.  "And, 
in  the  meantime,  until  your  ideas  are  more  developed 
in  detail,  the  business  will  continue  under  my  direc- 
tion, as  heretofore." 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  Joseph  agreed,  gently:  "to 


54  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

a  certain  extent.  .  .  I'll  have  a  look  about  for  Ethel, 
now."  He  stood  up  again,  and  walked  to  the  door. 
There,  he  paused,  turned,  and  threw  a  keen  glance 
at  the  manager.  "That's  it,  of  course,"  he  said,  in  a 
tone  low,  yet  very  clear.  "The  business,  in  the  mean- 
time, will  continue,  as  heretofore,  under  your  direc- 
tion —  to  a  certain  extent."  With  this  softly  spoken 
'decree,  the  owner  of  Holbrooke  and  Company  went 
out  of  the  manager's  office. 


CHAPTER   V 

MAGGIE    PEPPER 

AFTER  Joseph's  departure  from  the  office,  Hargen 
sat  motionless  for  a  long  time,  plunged  in  profound  and 
anxious  thought.  His  bloodless  face  seemed  even  more 
wan  than  was  its  wont,  and  its  lines  deeper.  Per- 
plexity and  alarm  were  written  in  his  expression.  The 
new  and  astonishing  position  taken  by  the  actual  head 
of  the  firm  was  of  a  character  that  threatened  ill  to 
the  managing  partner's  plans.  The  final  speech  of 
the  young  man  still  rang  ominously  in  Hargen's  ears. 
It  seemed  incredible  that  this  idling  spendthrift  could 
thus,  without  warning,  bring  confusion  on  so  many 
carefully  wrought  schemes  —  schemes  evolved  by  one 
who  was  a  master  of  craft.  Yet,  under  the  young 
man's  careless  manner,  his  elder  had  read  a  firmness 
of  purpose  that  was  reminiscent  of  the  father  whose 
indomitable  will  had  built  up  the  prosperity  of  Hol- 
brooke and  Company.  Was  it  possible  that,  under 
the  frivolous,  pleasure-hunting  veneer  he  had  hitherto 
shown  to  the  world,  the  son,  in  turn,  possessed  his 

55 


56  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

share  of  the  family  strength  and  intelligence  ?  If  so,  the 
fact  might  easily  spell  disaster  to  John  Hargen.  In 
any  event,  prudence  counseled  him  to  take  measures 
of  precaution.  He  must  juggle  still  more  effectively 
those  figures  in  the  firm's  accounts  that  concealed  the 
means  whereby  he  had  gained  funds  with  which  to 
continue  a  long  line  of  unfortunate  speculations. 

Hargen's  worries  were  interrupted,  if  not  ended, 
by  the  abrupt  entrance  into  the  room  of  his  niece, 
behind  whom  came  the  assistant-buyer  for  the  gown- 
department,  Maggie  Pepper.  A  glance  at  Ethel's 
face  showed  her  uncle  that  the  girl  was  in  a  tempes- 
tuous mood,  which,  he  shrewdly,  and  rightly,  suspected, 
was  at  bottom  due  to  Joseph's  caprice,  whatever  the 
ostensible  cause. 

Ethel  wasted  not  an  instant  in  making  known  her 
cause  of  complaint.  Scarcely  was  she  within  the  door 
when  she  addressed  her  uncle  in  a  rush  of  words.  Her 
ordinarily  musical  voice  was  shrill  with  anger. 

"I  tell  you,  this  woman  ought  to  be  dismissed  for 
stupidity  and  impertinence.  She's  quite  unbearable. 
Not  only  does  she  fail  to  carry  out  my  positive  instruc- 
tions, but  she  presumes  to  argue  the  matter  with  me, 
and  she  is  openly  impertinent.  She  should  be  dis- 
charged this  minute."  She  had  come  to  a  stop  beside 


MAGGIE  PEPPER  57 

the  desk,  and,  as  she  paused,  turned  to  sweep  a  wrathful 
glance  over  the  figure  that  had  halted  beside  her. 

The  girl  thus  violently  accused  showed  no  signs  of 
guilt,  although  her  graceful  form  drooped  listlessly. 
Face  and  posture  alike  revealed  excessive  fatigue,  as 
she  stood  holding  in  her  arms  two  gowns  that  had 
served  as  the  foci  of  trouble.  There  were  traces  of 
indignation  in  her  expression,  but  the  emotion  was 
not  strong  enough  to  tense  her  pose.  The  limpid  eyes 
of  gray  were  very  weary  as  they  met  the  sternly 
inquiring  stare  of  the  manager. 

"I  was  not  impertinent,  sir,"  she  declared,  in  a  voice 
that  was  bell-like  in  its  vibrant  monotone.  She  turned 
submissively  toward  Ethel,  whose  dark  eyes  flashed 
scorn.  "What  you  asked  was  impossible,  miss.  It's 
the  fault  of  the  buyer  or  of  the  jobber,  and  it  can't 
be  remedied  now."  Her  manner  was  perfectly  respect- 
ful, yet  in  it  lay  subtly  a  quality  of  independence,  of 
self-respect,  which  only  infuriated  the  more  the  impe- 
rious beauty  whom  she  addressed. 

Ethel  turned  again  to  her  uncle,  her  scarlet  lips  set 
to  a  straight  line  of  obstinacy. 

"It's  not  so  much  her  stupidity  that  I  object  to  as 
it  is  her  manner.  I  deem  it  most  impertinent.  She 
seems  quite  indifferent  in  the  matter  of  respect."  The 


58  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

girl  had  moderated  her  voice,  for  the  first  flare  of 
wrath  was  past.  But  there  was  a  curious  note  of 
fierceness  in  the  modulated  tones. 

Hargen,  too  wise  in  the  ways  of  women,  wondered 
if  by  any  chance  his  niece  could  have  been  stirred  to 
a  fit  of  jealousy  against  Maggie  Pepper.  His  specu- 
lative eyes  studied  covertly  the  assistant-buyer's  face, 
estimating  the  charm  of  each  feature  in  detail,  the 
exquisiteness  of  their  unity.  The  eyes  were  set  well 
apart,  and  they  were  splendidly  clear,  alight  with 
intelligence.  There  was  a  sparkle  of  humor  in  them 
always,  though  in  this  moment  it  was  near  to  extin- 
guishment. Somewhere  in  their  deeps  shone  a  glow 
that  suggested  tenderness  —  a  glow  that  might  flame 
into  the  fires  of  love.  That  same  tenderness,  with  all 
its  possibilities,  was  traced  in  the  soft,  red  bow  of  the 
lips,  in  the  dimples  now  smoothed  by  melancholy.  In 
the  masses  of  brown  hair,  glints  of  gold  showed 
warmly.  Her  tall  figure  was  of  a  curving  lissomeness 
to  woo  man's  desire.  Yes,  Hargen  decided  in  his 
swift,  secret  survey,  Maggie  Pepper  was  lovely  enough 
to  provoke  the  jealousy  of  another  lovely  woman,  and 
her  beauty  was  the  direct  opposite  in  type  of  Ethel's, 
wherefore  it  might  be  deemed  the  more  dangerous. 
The  old  man  was  mildly  amused.  Probably,  his  niece 


MAGGIE  PEPPER  59 

had  detected  Joseph  casting  an  admiring  look  on 
Maggie  Pepper,  and  here  was  the  natural  result. 
Possibly,  the  misguided  lover  had  spoken  of  the  assist- 
ant-buyer's attractive  appearance,  even  as  he  had  not 
scrupled  to  condemn  the  ugliness  of  the  establishment's 
femininity  as  a  whole.  In  such  case,  inevitably,  Ethel 
would  be  at  pains  to  punish  the  cause  of  her  mortifica- 
tion as  harshly  as  she  might.  Hargen  listened  indif- 
ferently to  his  employee's  attempt  at  self-justification. 

"Well,  miss,"  Maggie  urged,  with  a  strained  effort 
toward  patience,  "trying  to  sell  old  goods  for  new 
isn't  calculated  exactly  to  improve  one's  manners. 
The  public  is  on  to  it,  and  I  know  they  are,  and  that 
makes  me  feel  uncomfortable,  and  I  can't  manage  to 
seem  quite  so  pleasant  all  the  while." 

Hargen,  notwithstanding  his  appreciation  of  the 
situation,  saw  fit  to  interfere  at  this  point  for  the  sake 
of  discipline. 

"It's  your  business  to  sell  goods,  whatever  kind  they 
are  —  not  to  criticize  them,"  he  snapped,  with  an  air 
of  cold  authority.  "And,  by  the  way,  Miss  Pepper," 
he  went  on  after  a  moment's  pause,  without  any  relaxa- 
tion from  the  unpleasantness  of  his  manner,  "I  must 
ask  that  you  will  not,  if  you  please,  send  me  any  more 
letters  suggesting  how  this  business  should  be  run.  .  .  . 


60  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

And  there  is  still  another  matter :  As  for  your  appli- 
cation for  the  position  of  buyer,  which  was  recently 
vacated  by  Mrs.  Taylor,  I  may  say  at  once  that  the 
position  is  already  filled.  .  .  .  That  is  all.  You  may 
go." 

But  Maggie  held  her  ground.  Now,  at  last,  indig- 
nation gave  energy,  and  her  form  straightened.  The 
color  in  her  cheeks  deepened.  Her  voice,  when  she 
spoke,  was  deeper. 

"I've  worked  fifteen  years  for  Holbrooke  and  Com- 
pany," she  declared,  spiritedly.  "I  thought  I  was 
entitled  to " 

The  manager  interrupted  her  with  a  sneering  repeti- 
tion of  the  word : 

"Entitled?" 

"Yes,  entitled!"  the  girl  asserted,  undaunted.  "I 
thought  I  was  entitled  to  ask  for  this  position :  I 
thought  I  was  entitled  to  get  it.  For  I  know  the  work 
—  I  know  it  better  than  anyone  else  does.  I've  worked 
my  way  up  from  cash-girl.  I've  been  stock-girl;  I've 
been  saleswoman  in  every  department.  I've  been  on 
the  job  here  since  I  was  knee-high.  So,  I  thought  I 
was  entitled  to  ask  for  the  place,  after  being  Mrs. 
Taylor's  assistant  for  so  long."  She  paused,  staring 
at  the  manager  with  defiant  eyes. 


MAGGIE  PEPPER  61 

Ethel,  who  had  listened  in  much  astonishment  to 
the  conversation  between  her  uncle  and  Maggie,  offered 
a  question: 

"Is  that  the  position  my  dressmaker  is  considering?" 
Hargen  nodded  an  assent. 

Nevertheless,  Maggie  resumed  her  argument,  with 
increased  earnestness. 

"It's  no  place  for  a  dressmaker,  miss.  Those  dress- 
makers don't  understand  the  game.  Why,  miss,  I 
tell  you  it's  as  tricky  as  horse-trading.  I  know  all  the 
jobbers,  and  I'm  dead  on  to  their  little  ways  —  straight 
or  crooked.  The  dressmakers  don't  have  a  suspicion  of 
the  things  they've  got  to  know  here,  or  else  get  stung." 
She  turned  once  more  to  the  manager,  and  the  lucent 
gray  eyes  were  imploring.  "Please,  Mr.  Hargen,  give 
me  a  chance.  I  promise  you,  sir,  I'll  make  good. 
Won't  you  give  me  a  chance?" 

The  girl's  plea  had  evidently  failed  to  soften  her 
employer  in  the  slightest  degree. 

"What  you  ask  is  quite  impossible,"  he  answered, 
severely.  "I  have  told  you  that  the  position  is  already 
taken  That  ends  the  matter.  You  are  merely  wasting 
my  time,  as  well  as  your  own,  for  which  the  firm  pays. 
You  may  go." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  Maggie  replied,  with  a  pretense  of 


62  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

humility  that  was  belied  by  the  angry  toss  of  her  head 
as  she  turned  away. 

Hargen  did  not  suffer  the  hint  of  insubordination 
to  pass  without  rebuke. 

"If  you  are  not  satisfied  with  your  position,  Miss 
Pepper,"  he  remarked  icily,  "we  are  quite  prepared  to 
accept  your  resignation  at  any  time." 

"Oh,  I'm  perfectly  satisfied,  of  course,"  Maggie 
declared,  in  a  tone  of  gratitude  so  humble  that  the 
manager  regarded  her  suspiciously.  "I'm  delighted 
with  the  place,  sir."  She  faced  Ethel  for  a  moment, 
and  spoke  most  respectfully:  "I'll  just  go  over  the 
stock  again,  miss,  and  see  if  I  can't  find  exactly  what 
you  want.  I  think  I  understand  now." 

The  other  was  not  inclined  to  yield  anything  of  her 
spite  to  this  sudden  meekness.  Without  troubling  her- 
self to  look  in  Maggie's  direction,  she  flatly  refused  the 
proffered  service. 

"I  shall  not  wish  any  further  help  from  you,  thank 
you." 

Thus  dismissed,  Maggie  betook  herself  and  her 
disappointment  to  the  stock-room  where  she  had  her 
own  desk  as  assistant-buyer.  She  felt  herself  stricken 
by  the  blow  that  had  just  fallen,  for  she  was  ambitious 
beyond  most,  and  in  this  present  instance  she  had 


MAGGIE  PEPPER  63 

built  high  hopes.  It  was,  indeed,  true,  as  she  had 
insisted,  that  she  knew  the  business  of  the  firm  with 
the  utmost  thoroughness  throughout  its  every  part 
Her  long  service  as  assistant-buyer  under  Mrs.  Taylor, 
a  woman  of  great  ability,  had  made  her  especially 
competent  to  fill  the  position  now  vacant  by  the  other's 
departure.  Maggie,  with  the  optimism  of  her  age, 
which  in  her  case  was  justified  by  the  steady  progress 
she  had  hitherto  achieved,  told  herself  that  she  must 
inevitably  succeed  to  the  coveted  place.  By  so  much, 
then,  her  disappointment  had  been  the  keener  when 
her  application  was  bluntly  rejected.  Now,  she  yielded 
to  the  gripe  of  depression,  and  went  her  way  to  the 
elevator  with  a  shambling  step,  utterly  unlike  the 
accustomed  quick  gracefulness  of  her  every  movement. 

As  Maggie  appeared  in  the  stock-room,  a  single 
glance  of  Hattie's  keen  blue  eyes  made  known  to  that 
warm-hearted  girl  just  what  had  occurred.  Impetu- 
ously, she  hastened  forward,  took  the  two  gowns  from 
her  friend,  tossed  them  on  a  chair,  and  then  said 
gently,  as  she  patted  a  shoulder  tenderly : 

"Oh,  Maggie,  dear !    I'm  so  sorry !" 

Maggie  rebelliously  assumed  an  expression  of  bewil- 
derment. 


64  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"Sorry?"  she  repeated,  while  she  went  on  toward 
her  desk.  "What  on  earth  are  you  sorry  for?" 

The  sympathetic  Irish  girl  was  grieved  by  this  rebuff 
of  her  offered  condolence,  but  she  concealed  the  hurt, 
for  she  guessed  how  sorely  her  friend  was  wounded. 

"I'm  sorry  that  you  didn't  get  the  vacancy,"  she 
said,  gently.  "You've  worked  faithfully,  and  you 
deserve  it.  But,  anyhow,  you'll  have  lest;  responsibility 
and  less  worry  without  it  —  there's  that  much  comfort 
for  you." 

"And  less  pay,  too,"  Maggie  added,  bitterly.  Yet, 
she  managed  to  smile  feebly  as  she  left  Hattie  and 
seated  herself  at  her  desk. 

She  had  been  busy  with  some  papers  for  only  a  few 
minutes,  when  she  was  again  annoyed  by  a  sympathy 
that  served  only  to  emphasize  the  wrong  she  endured. 
This  time,  it  was  Murchison,  who  entered  from  the 
elevator  rather  slowly,  with  some  degree  of  the  dignity 
deserved  by  his  years,  for  he  was  genuinely  distressed 
that  Maggie's  application  had  been  refused. 

"I  am  so  sorry!"  he  said  simply,  as  the  girl  looked 
up  at  his  approach. 

The  raw  nerves  of  the  girl  quivered  under  the  well- 
meant  phrase.  The  arch  of  her  brows  was  drawn  to 
the  level  of  a  frown  that  emphasized  her  sharp  retort : 


4  MAGGIE  PEPPER  65 

"Say,  for  heaven's  sake,  stop  this  sympathy  meeting, 
will  you  ?"  She  included  Hattie  in  her  scowl.  "I  tell 
you  both  that  I've  got  work  to  do,  as  Mr.  Hargen  just 
now  kindly  reminded  me.  That's  what  they  pay  me 
for,  he  explained  also.  So,  you  can  cut  out  this 
mourning-bee  right  now!" 

"My  dear,  you're  a  game  sport,"  Murchison  vouch- 
safed, turning  away. 

"Well,  so  are  you,  if  it  comes  to  a  show-down," 
Maggie  declared.  Her  voice  was  more  kindly  now, 
for  she  felt  somewhat  ashamed  of  her  petulance. 
"You're  taking  some  mighty  long  chances  on  that  mar- 
riage of  yours." 

Instantly,  the  confidential  clerk  assumed  his  juvenile 
manner,  and  simpered. 

"Why,"  he  gushed,  in  a  pitiably  merry  treble,  "who 
told  you  that?" 

"She  did,  herself,"  Maggie  replied,  somberly;  "Imo- 
gene.  Well,  since  you're  going  to  marry  her  anyhow, 
I  sha'n't  tell  you  all  I  think :  but  the  name  of  Imogene, 
somehow,  don't  seem  to  inspire  me  with  any  great 
amount  of  confidence." 

"Oh,  doesn't  it !"  Murchison  inquired,  with  an  inane 
failure  to  appreciate  her  meaning.  "Well,  you'll  wish 
me  luck,  won't  you?" 


66  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"Sure !  —  and  lots  of  it,"  Maggie  declared ;  and  the 
smile  that  accompanied  the  words  was  very  winsome. 

"Thank  you  a  thousand  times,  my  dear,"  the  clerk 
said,  happily.  His  clumsy  joints  again  strove  ineffec- 
tively for  sprightliness  as  he  hobbled  off  to  the  elevator. 

"God  knows  he  needs  it,"  the  assistant-buyer  mused, 
as  she  watched  the  aged  man's  departure.  "For  the 
matter  of  that,"  she  added  drearily,  "we  all  do  —  your 
humble  servant  in  particular."  Abruptly,  she  sat  erect, 
and  brought  one  clenched  fist  down  fiercely  on  the  desk. 
Then,  she  spoke  her  mind  to  Hattie,  who  hovered 
near,  eager  to  comfort.  "All  the  swelling's  gone  out  of 
my  head.  Yep,  it's  back  to  the  counter  for  mine,  for 
the  rest  of  my  days.  .  .  .  And  you,  you  silly  girl,  you 
helped  me  to  move  into  the  new  flat:  well,  now,  you 
can  help  me  to  move  back  again  into  the  old  place.  I 
was  too  previous,  that's  all  —  got  to  go  back  to  the 
old  scale  of  living.  No  more  dreams  of  luxury  for 
mine." 

"Why  don't  you  get  married?"  Hattie  made  the 
suggestion  with  a  full  consciousness  that  it  was  not 
destined  to  suit  the  occasion,  but,  for  the  life  of  her, 
she  could  think  of  nothing  else  to  say. 

"No,  I  thank  you  kindly,"  Maggie  answered,  tartly. 
"The  privilege  of  handing  my  pay-envelope  to  some 


MAGGIE  PEPPER  67 

fellow  every  Saturday  night  don't  appeal  to  me  — 
not  a  little  bit.  I  want  to  make  my  own  way,  without 
being  hampered  by  a  masculine  expense-account.  .  .  . 
But  there's  the  trouble,  Hattie !"  She  was  silent  for  a 
long  minute,  thinking  deeply,  the  corners  of  her  curv- 
ing red  lips  drooping  sorrowfully.  "I  want  to  make 
my  own  way  —  yes!  But  where  to?  You  see,  my 
dear,  the  difficulty  is,  I  lack  education.  I  don't  know 
how  to  be  a  lady.  I  have  brains  enough,  I  guess ;  and 
I  can  read  and  write  and  figure  well  enough  to  hold 
down  'most  any  job.  But  I  don't  know  the  little  things, 
the  nice  things  —  the  ladylike  things.  I  wasn't  brought 
up  on  them,  and  I've  never  had  the  chance  to  get  hold 
of  them,  right." 

Hattie  tossed  her  head  with  an  indignation  that  was 
wholly  sincere. 

"Rats!"  she  ejaculated.  "Just  think  of  those  pin- 
heads  that  come  in  here.  What  on  earth  do  they  know 
that  you  don't  —  or  I,  even  ?" 

Maggie  was  not  convinced.  On  the  contrary,  she 
shook  her  head  dolefully,  as  she  answered  with  a  sigh : 

"Almost  everything,  Hattie  —  that's  what  they 
know  that  we  don't.  Why,  we're  just  jokes  —  only, 
we  don't  know  it."  The  laugh  by  which  she  empha- 
sized the  words  was  savage  with  revolt  against  the 


68  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

fate  that  crushed  her.  For  a  little  interval,  she  rested 
silent,  staring  before  her  with  unseeing  eyes.  When, 
at  last,  she  looked  up  into  the  face  of  the  patiently 
waiting  Hattie,  she  smiled  forlornly;  the  tender  lips 
were  tremulous  as  she  spoke:  "The  clock  has  struck 
twelve  for  me.  It's  drudgery  for  mine,  for  all  the 
rest  of  my  life  —  just  drudgery,  drudgery,  drudgery!" 
The  repetition  was  the  knell  of  hope.  She  moved  with1 
nervous  abruptness,  slammed  a  drawer  shut  noisily; 
her  voice  came  rasping:  "And  with  these  remarks 
we'll  consider  the  incident  closed." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    STRANGE    GENTLEMAN 

IN  that  future  to  which  in  her  hour  'of  trial 
Maggie  Pepper  looked  forward  so  bitterly,  there  was 
never  the  shadow  of  a  dream  of  the  Marquis  de 
Brensac.  In  the  same  hour,  the  erudite  and  indus- 
trious nobleman  was  perusing  intently  the  chronicles 
of  Froisart,  utterly  unaware  that  he  was  about  to  be- 
come a  factor  in  the  life-story  of  a  modern  maiden 
some  thousands  of  miles  distant  from  his  castle  and 
in  a  walk  of  life  utterly  unknown  to  him.  Yet,  in 
spite  of  the  total  ignorance  of  the  two,  the  wide- 
reaching  influence  of  the  marquis  was  about  to  im- 
pinge upon  Maggie's  circle  of  fate.  The  effect 
wrought  swiftly  and  permanently  on  Joseph  was  now 
ready  to  react  vitally  on  the  assistant-buyer  for  Hol- 
brooke and  Company.  In  miserable  unconsciousness 
as  to  the  forthcoming  operation  of  the  law  of  causa- 
tion, Maggie  involuntarily  looked  up  as  she  heard 
the  click  of  the  elevator-door. 

She  perceived  an  extremely  well-dressed  young 


70  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

man,  of  an  appearance  distinctly  gentlemanly,  who 
advanced  toward  her  desk  with  an  air  of  quiet  ease 
that  was  unlike  the  hustling-  tread  or  loafing  manner 
of  the  usual  business  visitors.  Moreover,  he  was 
puffing  nonchalantly  on  a  rather  black  cigar,  and 
swung  a  natty  walking-stick  in  a  fashion  that  argued 
familiarity  with  this  sort  of  appendage.  The  as- 
sistant-buyer noted  also,  in  her  short  glance  of  ap- 
praisal, that  the  newcomer  was  of  a  goodly  height, 
and  of  a  breadth  to  match,  without  an  ounce  of  use- 
less weight;  that  his  features  were  orderly,  clean  cut, 
strong;  that  his  expression  was  both  intelligent  and 
amiable,  and  that  he  was  strikingly  well  groomed  — 
so  well,  indeed,  that  Maggie  almost  yielded  to  an 
inclination  to  examine  the  position  of  her  own  puffs, 
before  administering  the  rebuke  that  awaited  him 
for  his  glaring  breaches  of  decorum.  She  resisted  the 
temptation,  however,  and  snapped  a  sentence  that  no 
ingenuity  could  twist  into  welcome: 

"No  drummers  allowed  in  the  stock-room  after 
eleven  o'clock.  .  .  And  kindly  escort  that  cigar  out 
to  the  sidewalk,  will  you?"  Her  musical  voice  was 
charged  with  authority. 

The  visitor  halted,  dumfounded,  to  stare  at  the 
pretty  girl  who  'greeted  him  in  such  rude  style.  He 


THE  STRANGE  GENTLEMAN     71 

found  her  gray  eyes  altogether  uncompromising,  as 
they  met  his  own  steadily.  He  conceded  a  point  by 
hastily  taking  the  cigar  from  his  lips. 

"Why?"  he  inquired,  in  a  voice  that  revealed  no 
trace  of  discomposure.  "Don't  you  like  smoke?" 
His  manner  was  so  deferential  that  the  girl  was 
placated,  notwithstanding  her  prejudices. 

"It  isn't  what  I  like,"  she  explained,  with  a  note 
of  relenting  in  her  tones.  "But  it's  against  the  fire- 
department  rules.  Besides,  we  can't  sell  this  sort  of 
goods"  —  she  waved  a  slim  hand  toward  the  counters 
—  "if  they  reek  with  tobacco  smoke."  Unconscious- 
ly to  herself,  Maggie  was  speaking  more  carefully 
than  was  her  wont.  Something  in  the  mere  presence 
of  the  man  stimulated  her  to  avoid  the  usual  sloppy 
shop-talk. 

The  visitor  tossed  his  cigar  into  a  fire-bucket,  and 
glanced  about  him  interestedly.  Then,  his  eyes  came 
back  to  the  girl.  In  them  was  a  look  of  appreciation 
which  was  a  trifle  confusing  to  the  recipient,  so  that 
the  roses  in  her  cheeks  deepened. 

"Are  you  the  head  of  this  department?"  was  his 
question. 

"No,"  Maggie  replied,  with  a  rueful  smile;  "but 
I'm  the  assistant.  There's  no  head  just  at  present." 


72  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

The  young  man  seemed  somewhat  puzzled  by  this 
statement,  as  well  he  might,  but  offered  no  comment. 

"I'm  just  looking  about  a  bit,"  he  explained.  "I'm 
trying  to  learn  the  department-store  business." 

"Oh,  that's  not  much  of  a  job,"  the  assistant-buyer 
declared  sarcastically.  "But  the  first  thing  you  have 
to  learn  is  that  you  mustn't  talk  to  people  who  have 
work  to  do,  which  is  the  case  with  me  at  this  very 
identical  moment." 

The  visitor  bowed  with  an  air  of  breeding  that  dis- 
concerted the  girl  greatly.  She  was  not  accustomed 
to  niceties  of  deportment  in  the  stock-room  —  or 
elsewhere,  for  that  matter. 

"But  you  will  pardon  me  for  a  little,  won't  you?" 
he  asked.  "Do  you  like  your  work?" 

"I  just  love  it!"  Maggie  spoke  with  an  inflection 
that  set  the  hearer  guessing  as  to  her  meaning. 

"You're  a  buyer,  are  you  not?"  he  persisted. 

At  this,  the  girl  rebelled.  She  gave  the  speaker  a 
searching  look  from  beneath  drawn  brows. 

"See  here."  she  demanded,  curtly.  "Are  you  a  re- 
porter?" 

"Good  heavens,  no!"  The  sincerity  of  the  dis- 
claimer was  beyond  question. 

"Well,  then,  what  is  your  line?" 


THE  STRANGE  GENTLEMAN     73 

"But,  you  know,"  was  the  suave  answer,  "I  really 
haven't  one.  As  I  said  to  you,  I'm  just  looking  about 
a  bit." 

"Oh,  I  understand,"  Maggie  exclaimed.  His  words 
made  the  whole  story  clear.  It  was  another  instance 
of  someone  who  had  come  down  a  few  —  perhaps 
many  —  rungs  of  the  social  ladder.  "In  plain  words, 
you're  hunting  a  job."  Her  relief  was  so  obvious  that 
the  visitor  was  loath  to  undeceive  her.  But  his  in- 
stinct toward  honesty  prevailed. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  declared.  "The  fact  is,  however, 
that  I'm  not  hunting  a  job — that  is,  not  exactly, 
anyhow.  .  .  But  why  did  you  think  that?  Would 
you,  by  any  chance  now,  give  me  one?  I  have  an 
idea  that  I  might  make  something  of  a  hit  as  a  floor- 
walker, you  know." 

"Perhaps,"  Maggie  admitted,  with  judicial  cold- 
ness. As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  was  thinking  him  the 
most  striking  and  pleasing  man  she  had  ever  seen. 
She  was  forced  to  speak  coldly  to  keep  the  en- 
thusiasm out  of  her  voice. 

"And,  if  not,"  the  young  man  continued  anxiously, 
"please  tell  me  what  you  do  think  I'm  good  for." 

One  of  the  girl's  elusive  dimples  shadowed  the 


74  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

white  of  her  cheek.  The  visitor  watched  it  content- 
edly, as  she  answered  saucily: 

"Conversation!" 

"A  hit  — a  palpable  hit,  by  Jove!"  The  fellow 
seemed  actually  to  enjoy  being-  the  butt  of  her 
raillery.  "But,  seriously  now,  what  could  I  succeed 
in  doing  here,  in  this  house?" 

Maggie  experienced  a  pang  of  compunction.  After 
all,  this  applicant  might  be  in  dire  distress,  even  in 
want  of  food,  for  all  the  richness  of  his  attire.  She 
had  heard  of  such  cases.  It  might  be  that  he  hid 
desperation  under  this  debonair  exterior.  Anyhow, 
she  would  not  run  the  risk  of  playing  with  his  misery. 
She  considered  him  for  a  few  seconds  attentively 
from  a  business  standpoint,  impersonally.  Her  de- 
cision was  quick  and  definite: 

"Tie-and-glove-department,  gents'  furnishings." 

The  visitor  smiled,  with  an  expression  of  genial 
gratitude. 

"And  how  much  a  week  will  you  give  me?"  he 
asked,  eagerly. 

"You'll  have  to  see  Mr.  Hargen  about  that,"  the 
girl  explained.  "Really,  you  know,  this  isn't  at  all 
the  place  to  apply.  .  .  And  let  me  give  you  a  piece 
of  advice,  if  you  don't  mind.  Drop  that  conversation 


THE  STRANGE  GENTLEMAN     75 

habit  during  business  hours,  young  man.  If  you 
don't,  you'll  never  get  a  chance  to  sweep  out  the 
place  even."  The  girl  spoke  with  emphasis,  for  she 
was  sincere  in  her  advice.  But,  when  she  had  ended 
the  words  of  warning,  her  expression  changed:  from 
lively  interest,  it  fell  to  profound  melancholy  in  an  in- 
stant. "What  a  pity  —  oh,  what  a  pity!"  she  mur- 
mured to  herself. 

The  visitor's  senses  were  keen,  however,  and  he 
heard.  He  marveled  mightily,  too,  over  the  varia- 
tion of  her  mood. 

"What  is  it  that's  a  pity?"  he  asked.  There  was 
insistence  in  his  voice.  "Tell  me,  please." 

For  a  brief  period  of  hesitation,  Maggie  regarded 
his  face  doubtfully.  Something  she  saw  there  de- 
cided her  to  be  frank.  She  addressed  him  with  a  sug- 
gestion of  diffidence  that  seemed  strange  to  herself, 
and  caused  Hattie  to  open  her  blue  eyes  to  their 
widest. 

"Why  do  you  want  to  waste  your  life  in  a  business 
of  this  sort?"  the  girl  asked,  wistfully.  "Here,  you'll 
slave  from  morning  till  night.  You'll  put  your  whole 
heart  and  soul  into  your  work.  Then,  some  fine  day, 
after  years  of  drudgery,  you'll  find  yourself  almost 
where  you  started.  You'll  learn  that  you've  just  been 


76  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

going  around  in  a  circle  —  no  progress,  no  future: 
you're  merely  the  rank  and  file.  So,  if  you've  got 
any  brains,  you  don't  want  to  stay  here.  What  you 
ought  to  do  is  to  go  somewhere  where  you'll  have 
a  chance  to  use  them." 

The  visitor  had  listened  apparently  with  absorbed 
interest.  If  the  truth  be  known,  however,  he  was 
studying  the  face  of  the  speaker  with  ever-growing 
delight.  She  satisfied  to  the  full  that  esthetic  sense 
of  his  to  which  he  had  referred  in  his  complaint  to 
Hargen  concerning  the  deplorable  ugliness  of  the 
women  about  the  establishment.  He  reflected  that 
her  presence  in  the  place  raised  the  average  of 
feminine  beauty  many  degrees  higher  than  he  had 
first  set  it. 

For,  as  the  astute  reader  has  already  guessed,  this 
visitor  was  none  other  than  Joseph  himself,  industri- 
ously following  his  duty  to  tradition  and  race  as  im- 
pressed upon  him  by  that  involuntary  agent  of  destiny, 
the  Marquis  de  Brensac.  Hitherto,  in  his  peregrina- 
tions through  the  house,  he  had  been  provoked  to  in- 
terest often,  to  enjoyment  not  at  all.  In  the  stock- 
room, on  the  contrary,  he  found  entertainment  worth 
while.  Honest  opinion  and  instruction  were  his  for 
the  asking  from  this  keenly  intelligent  young" 


THE  STRANGE  GENTLEMAN     77 

woman,  and  along  with  them  went  the  pleasure  that 
radiant  beauty  always  afforded  to  his  artistic  soul.  It 
is  probable  that  the  loveliness  of  the  teacher  affected 
him  more  deeply  than  he  himself  was  aware  at  the 
moment.  But  he  was  fully  conscious  of  the  fact  that 
here  was  a  happiness  which  he  had  by  no  means  an- 
ticipated under  the  direction  of  noblesse  oblige,  and 
he  was  bound  to  make  the  most  of  it.  He  was  at 
pains  not  to  alarm  her  by  any  display  of  his  great 
satisfaction  in  the  situation,  so,  when  finally  she  came 
to  the  end  of  her  admonition,  he  merely  uttered  a 
barren  protest,  which  could  by  no  possibility  arouse 
her  suspicions  that  he  might  be  other  than  he  seemed. 

"I  don't  fancy,"  he  drawled,  "that  I'm  over- 
burdened with  brains." 

Maggie  rebuked  herself  for  the  freedom  of  her  out- 
burst in  behalf  of  one  so  stupid. 

"Well,  perhaps  the  business  will  suit  you  all  right," 
she  said,  evenly.  Her  inflection  was  not  compliment- 
ary. 

But  Joseph  was  resolved  to  draw  her  out  still 
further,  if  it  were  possible. 

"With  yourself  now,"  he  suggested  argumentative- 
ly;  "can't  you  get  any  higher?" 


78  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

The  memory  of  disappointment  cut  into  the  girl's 
heart,  as  she  replied  sullenly,  her  eyes  downcast. 

"It  seems  not."  The  color  faded  svvifty  from  her 
cheeks.  Joseph  perceived  with  consternation  that 
she  was  pale  and  weary  of  a  sudden.  "Good-bye," 
she  added,  lifting  her  clear  eyes  frankly  to  meet  his 
anxious  gaze.  "I've  work  to  do,  you  know.  Good- 
bye." 

Joseph  made  one  step  forward  toward  the  girl. 

"It's  good  of  you  to  speak  to  me  in  confidence  this 
way,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  gentler  than  before. 
"And  you  are  tired,  too,  I'm  afraid.  Let  me  tell  you 
that  I  appreciate  your  kindness  very  much  —  very 
much,  indeed." 

"It's  foolish  of  me  to  talk  so  much  to  a  stranger," 
Maggie  declared.  Her  lips  were  tremulous;  the 
dimple  had  long  vanished.  There  was  just  a  hint  of 
mist  veiling  the  deeps  of  the  warm  gray  eyes.  Her 
words  came  with  little  breaks  between.  "I'm  —  not 
myself  —  at  all.  It's  taken  the  heart  out  of  me,  I 
guess.  Oh,  I  don't  mean  that."  The  sympathy  in 
Joseph's  face  as  she  fought  against  the  pain  touched 
her  to  a  feminine  weakness  that  was  almost  beyond 
her  will  to  control.  "Please  —  good-bye,"  she  repeated. 
"Let  me  know  if  you  get  the  job." 


THE  STRANGE  GENTLEMAN.     79 

Joseph,  however,  was  reluctant  to  take  his  dis- 
missal as  yet. 

"What  is  it  that  has  taken  the  heart  out  of  you?" 
he  questioned.  He  bent  toward  her  with  the  words. 
He  spoke  with  a  certain  masculine  imperiousness, 
too,  which  pierced  through  the  girl's  armor  of  reti- 
cence, although  she  struggled  against  yielding  all  her 
confidence. 

"A  —  disappointment,"  she  stammered,  weakly. 
"It's  nothing  that  really  matters." 

"Tell  me,"  Joseph  urged,  insistently.  A  persuasive 
tenderness  sounded  in  his  utterance:  it  broke  down 
Maggie's  last  barrier  of  reserve.  She  spoke  in  a  low, 
faltering  voice,  confused,  distressed,  yet  glad  to  con- 
fide in  this  man  whose  sympathy  stirred  her  so  deeply. 

"Why,  it's  only  that  our  buyer  has  resigned.  You 
see,  I'm  next  in  order  here.  I  know  the  business  from 
the  ground  up;  I've  had  plenty  of  experience  in  the 
particular  work  of  this  department  as  assistant.  So, 
I  put  in  my  application.  I  thought  I  ought  to  have 
the  place :  the  manager  thinks  otherwise.  That's  all. 
Only,  it  seems  a  little  hard,  after  fifteen  years,  to  be 
told  that  you  must  stop  right  here  for  the  rest  of  your 
life,  that  there's  no  chance  for  any  further  advance- 
ment." 


8o  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"Fifteen  years!"  the  young  man  ejaculated,  in 
amazement.  "Why,  fifteen  years  ago,  you  must  have 
been  the  merest  child."  There  was  infinite  compas- 
sion in  his  utterance. 

"Yes,  I  started  in  as  a  kid,  and  I've  been  on  the 
job  every  working  day  since." 

"Fifteen  years!"  Joseph  repeated,  in  a  wonder  that 
was  half-awe.  He  was  trying  to  imagine  the  mean- 
ing of  that  term  of  servitude.  How  much  of  brain 
and  body  had  this  woman  given  to  swell  the  fortune 
which  he  had  lavished  in  careless  prodigality,  with 
never  a  thought  for  the  toilers  whence  it  was  sprung? 
The  winning  personality  of  this  particular  one  among 
the  horde  forced  him  to  realization  such  as  he  could 
never  have  achieved  by  cold  logic  directed  through 
one  of  the  frumps  of  whom  he  had  complained. 

Maggie  curtly  interrupted  his  train  of  thought. 
She  was  already  half-repentant  of  her  frankness  to 
a  stranger.  Yet,  for  some  subtle,  inexplicable  reason, 
she  still  felt  herself  curiously  well  disposed  toward 
him.  She  made  a  compromise  between  her  antagon- 
istic emotions  by  changing  the  subject  definitely, 
while  offering  him  the  best  advice  of  which  she  was 
capable : 

"I'd  like  to  help  you  any  way  I  can.     Now,  you 


THE  STRANGE  GENTLEMAN     81 

must  cut  out  that  cane:  it  isn't  businesslike.  And  the 
hat!"  She  regarded  the  latest  thing  in  fuzziness  with 
a  pout  of  disdain.  "That's  an  awful  thing  to  go 
round  looking  for  work  in.  .  .  And  that  reminds  me: 
Have  you  had  any  experience?" 

"Not  a  bit,"  Joseph  replied,  humbly. 

"Well,  don't  tell  anybody  so,"  Maggie  warned. 
Again,  the  dimple  revealed  itself,  daintily.  "But 
you've  bought  ties  and  socks  at  times,  haven't  you?" 
Then,  as  the  listener  nodded  assent,  she  continued 
with  a  demure  air  of  sagacity  that  fascinated  the 
young  man.  "Well,  now,  you  must  sell  them.  Un- 
derstand? It's  just  the  matter  of  being  on  the  other 
side  of  the  counter — that's  all.  You  must  praise 
the  goods,  instead  of  knocking  them.  .  .  Drop  in  here 
every  now  and  then,  and  I'll  give  you  a  few  pointers 
that  may  help  some.  You'll  need  them  fast  enough!" 
Joseph  laughed  aloud  at  the  precision  of  her  instruc- 
tions and  the  delicately  dogmatic  manner  in  which 
they  were  spoken.  Her  rebuke  followed  on  the  in- 
stant. "And,  for  heaven's  sake,  can  that  laugh.  Go 
check  it  somewhere." 

"By  Jove,  you  are  frightfully  interesting,  you 
know,"  Joseph  cried,  in  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm. 

"  'Frightfully  interesting !'  "   Maggie  repeated  de- 


82  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

jectedly;  and  she  shook  her  head  in  despair.  "Say, 
don't  you  spring-  any  of  that  London  stuff  on  Hargen. 
If  you  do,  it's  all  off.  Take  my  tip." 

A  new  curiosity  seized  the  recently  created  knight 
of  industry.  Before  he  thought  as  to  the  propriety  of 
the  question,  he  had  put  it: 

"You  don't  like  this  Mr.  Hargen,  do  you?" 

"I'm  not  madly  infatuated  with  him,"  Maggie  con- 
ceded, with  a  candor  that  astonished  herself  beyond 
measure.  "But  —  oh,  I  suppose  he's  all  right.  The 
trouble  is  that  he's  surrounded  with  a  'yes-yes' 
chorus.  They  make  him  believe  that  everything  he 
thinks  or  does  is  the  greatest  ever." 

Interested  though  he  was  in  the  subject,  Joseph 
abandoned  it  as  contrary  to  propriety.  He  created 
a  diversion  by  boldly  asking  the  girl  her  name. 

"It's  Maggie  Pepper,"  was  the  prompt  answer; 
"and  don't  you  say  it's  a  hot  name:  I've  heard  that 
too  many  thousand  times.  When  I  first  came  here 
they  called  me  Green  Pepper.  The  day  after  I  sassed 
Mr.  Hargen,  it  was  Red  Pepper,  and  that's  stuck." 
The  limpid  eyes  were  sparkling  with  merriment. 

A  quick,  dominant  idea  prevented  the  proprietor 
of  Holbrooke  and  Company  from  entire  responsive- 
ness to  the  humor  in  the  girl's  description  of  her 


THE  STRANGE  GENTLEMAN     83 

names.  The  earnestness  of  his  manner  as  he  put 
another  question  sobered  her  at  once,  and  her  answer 
was  given  with  serious  intensity: 

"If  you  were  to  get  this  vacancy  here,"  was  his 
inquiry,  "what  would  you  do?" 

"What  wouldn't  I  do?  Why,  I'd  just  turn  things 
upside  down,  and  the  whole  establishment  ought  to 
follow  suit.  We're  overstocked,  for  one  thing.  We 
bell  old  goods  —  that's  the  result,  of  course.  And  we 
don't  advertise  as  we  ought  to.  The  real  trouble  is, 
we're  behind  the  times  —  'way  behind.  We're  using 
old,  mildewed  methods,  and  that's  what's  ruining 
Holbrooke  and  Company.  Good  gracious!  it's  like 
a  morgue  here.  We  ought  to  have  music,  life,  gayety. 
I've  got  an  idea  for  an  escalator  that  would  go  all 
round  the  store  —  it  would  be  a  corker.  You  know 
how  tired  the  fat  women  get  chasing  the  different 

departments.  Well,  you  see,  I'd But  what's  the 

use!" 

"Go  on  —  please  do  go  on,"  Joseph  entreated.  The 
enthusiasm  of  the  girl  warmed  his  heart.  Here,  at 
last,  was  being  shown  the  way  in  which  the  ambition 
to  which  he  had  set  himself  might  be  achieved.  The 
absorbed  interest  on  his  face  was  so  convincing  that 
the  girl  continued  the  narrative  of  her  projects. 


84  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"I'd  sell  off  all  these  goods  on  hand  at  auction. 
I'd  give  'em  away,  if  necessary,  to  get  rid  of  them. 
Then,  I'd  re-stock  —  get  the  very  latest  and  best 
from  Paris  —  have  a  bunch  of  the  handsomest-ever 
girls  to  show  'em  off.  And  I'd  advertise  like  a  —  like 
a  circus  or  a  mining  fraud.  Why,  as  our  announce- 
ments are  now,  they're  just  a  joke.  The  girls  in  the 
up-to-date  houses  call  us  the  Old  Curiosity  Shop. 
It's  awful  —  simply  awful!" 

"I  wish  to  have  a  long  talk  with  you,"  Joseph  said, 
gravely.  "What  time  do  you  go  to  luncheon?  We 
might " 

Maggie  cut  short  the  invitation,  without  ceremony. 

"I  don't  go,"  she  informed  him,  curtly.  "I  eat  my 
lunch  right  here.  And  let  me  tell  you  something: 
Cut  out  that  lunch  racket.  They  all  try  it,  but  it 
don't  go.  Understand?" 

Joseph,  however,  regarded  the  matter  as  too  im- 
portant to  be  dismissed  thus  cavalierly. 

"We'll  cut  out  the  luncheon  racket,  if  you  insist. 
But,  all  the  same,  I  must  talk  with  you  again  about 
these  things.  When  may  I  see  you?" 

For  some  elusive  reason,  the  quiet  mastery  of  his 
manner  thrilled  the  girl,  swayed  her  to  complaisance. 

"You'll    find    me    here    'most    any    time,"    she 


THE  STRANGE  GENTLEMAN     85 

promised.  "And,  oh,  that  reminds  me,"  she  contin- 
ued, with  new  vivacity.  "What's  your  name?" 

Murchison,  who  had  just  appeared  from  the  ele- 
vator, came  dodderingly  toward  the  desk.  Joseph 
hastily  took  a  card  from  his  case,  laid  it  on  the  as- 
sistant-buyer's desk,  and,  with  a  softly  spoken  word 
of  parting,  turned  away. 

Maggie  greeted  the  aged  bridegroom  of  the  mor- 
row with  a  smile  so  dazzling  that  the  susceptible 
ancient  fairly  blinked.  In  her  heart  was  a  throb  of 
happiness,  new  and  strange  and  wonderfully  sweet. 
She  made  no  guess  as  to  its  meaning;  only,  of  a  sud- 
den, she  felt  that,  after  all,  life  was  a  joyous  thing. 


CHAPTER   VII 

STEPS   TO   TROUBLE 

AN  irruption  of  business  into  the  stock-room  kept 
Maggie  Pepper  so  fully  occupied  that  for  some  time 
she  had  no  opportunity  to  look  at  the  card  left  for  her 
by  the  strange  gentleman  who  had  aroused  her  interest. 
Throughout  the  interval,  however,  while  her  whole 
attention  outwardly  was  given  to  details  concerning 
styles  and  prices  and  deliveries,  her  mind  was  engaged 
in  vague  speculations  concerning  the  identity  of  the 
visitor,  his  character,  his  history,  his  future,  and  in 
half-troubled  wonderings  as  to  whether  or  not  their 
paths  of  life  might  cross  again.  She  sighed  with  relief 
when,  finally,  there  came  a  lull  from  the  gale  of  work, 
and  she  was  free  to  pick  up  the  card,  which  had  been 
lying  face  down  on  the  desk  before  her. 

As  she  read  the  name  there,  Maggie's  eyes  dilated, 
her  lips  puckered  to  a  whistle.  In  the  first  moment 
of  understanding,  her  sole  emotion  was  of  amazement. 
She  grew  rigid  in  her  chair,  and  sat  staring  at  the  bit 
of  pasteboard  through  second  after  second,  to  the 

86 


STEPS  TO  TROUBLE  87 

unbounded  astonishment  of  Hattie,  who  was  almost 
as  curious  as  Maggie  herself  concerning  the  mysterious 
caller.  She,  too,  had  been  in  the  throes  of  impatience 
to  learn  more  of  him,  and  she  had  watched  eagerly 
when  her  friend  took  up  the  card.  Now,  as  time 
passed,  and  Maggie  did  nothing  more  than  sit  gazing 
with  widened  eyes,  Hattie  passed  from  astonishment 
to  indignation.  She  felt  that  her  inquisitiveness  was 
being  cheated  of  its  just  dues.  Without  hesitation,  she 
challenged  the  situation: 

"Say,  for  the  love  of  Mike,"  she  demanded,  bearing 
down  on  the  desk,  "what's  got  you,  Maggie?" 

The  rude  interrogation  aroused  the  girl  from  her 
trance  of  bewilderment.  Slowly,  she  lifted  her  eyes,  in 
which  the  color  had  darkened  from  excitement;  the 
puckered  lips  relaxed  to  a  half-smile.  Her  words  came 
in  a  gust: 

"Joseph  Holbrooke!  Now,  what  do  you  think  of 
that?" 

"Joseph  Holbrooke!"  Hattie  ejaculated,  dazedly. 
Her  jaw  dropped;  her  eyes  grew  round;  she  stood 
transfixed  with  the  first  overpowering  emotion  of  her 
life.  Then,  after  a  half-minute,  she  repeated  her  most 
violent  exclamation.  It  was  inadequate,  but  she  could 


88  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

command  no  phrase  worthy  of  the  catastrophe.  "For 
the  love  of  Mike!" 

Maggie's  lips  quivered  a  little.  She  moved  nerv- 
ously, apprehensively.  She  brought  out  the  vital 
question  with  difficulty : 

"Did  I  —  did  I  say  anything  —  much,  Hattie  ?" 

The  distressed  friend  threw  up  her  hands,  in  a 
gesture  of  supreme  despair. 

"Did  she  say  anything?"  she  cried,  rolling  her  eyes 
toward  the  ceiling.  "Oh,  heavings !  Did  she  say  any- 
thing!" She  brought  her  gaze  back  by  an  effort, 
and  regarded  her  questioner  with  infinite  reproach. 

Maggie  frowned  blackly,  endeavoring  to  recall  the 
extent  of  her  culpability.  A  lively  shame  for  her  un- 
accustomed garrulity  swept  over  her.  With  it  came  a 
hot  rage  against  the  man  who  had  so  played  on  her 
sensibilities,  who  had  enticed  her  into  such  intimate 
confessions.  Yet,  in  the  next  instant,  her  wrath  was 
altogether  against  herself  for  having  yielded.  Again, 
she  set  herself  to  recalling  just  what  she  had  said  in 
her  folly. 

"What  did  I  say'?"  she  mused  aloud.  "Let  me  see, 
now.  I  knocked  Hargen,  that's  one  thing  sure.  I 
knocked  Holbrooke  and  Company  —  knocked  them 
hard,  too,  that's  another  thing  sure.  I  knocked  their 


STEPS  TO  TROUBLE  89 

stock,  their  methods  —  everything.  There's  no  getting 
away  from  it,  I  did.  I  didn't  leave  a  single  button  on 
their  vests.  .  .  .  Darn  the  man,  Hattie!  He  got  me 
going,  and  then  he  held  me.  He  simply  made  me  talk. 
I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but  he  did  it.  There  was 

something  about  him  that Oh,  well,  what's  the 

use?  It's  my  finish,  all  right.  He'll  just  about  go 
down  and  tell  Hargen,  and  then  —  yep,  I  can  hear 
them  making  out  my  absence-papers.  .  .  .  And  what 
makes  me  mad  is,  Hattie,  I  —  I  kind  o'  liked  him !"  As 
she  made  the  humiliating  confession,  the  crimson 
flooded  cheeks  and  brow,  and  her  eyes  fell. 

Hattie,  however,  was  now  inclined  to  take  a  more 
optimistic  view  of  the  situation. 

"I'm  thinking  he  won't  tell,"  she  vouchsafed,  with 
an  air  of  conviction.  "I  guess,  from  all  I've  heard,  and 
from  what  I  seen  of  him  to-day,  that  he's  a  genuine 
sport.  So  be  he  is,  he  won't  squeal." 

The  luncheon  hour  was  come,  and  the  two  girls 
proceeded  to  make  their  repasts  from  the  contents  of 
the  boxes  they  had  brought. 

In  spite  of  the  excitement  that  still  agitated  her, 
Maggie  contrived  to  make  an  excellent  meal,  as  de- 
manded by  her  youth  and  perfect  health.  While  they 
ate,  the  friends  discussed  Joseph  from  every  viewpoint, 


90  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

and  much  of  what  they  said  might  have  caused  the 
ears  of  that  gentleman  to  tingle,  could  he  have  over- 
heard. On  the  other  hand,  much  that  was  not  said 
would  have  given  him  more  than  compensation,  for 
Maggie  still  felt  deep  down  in  her  heart  the  warmth 
born  of  her  meeting  with  him.  The  knowledge  of  his 
identity  shocked  and  confused  her,  for  a  time ;  but  the 
feeling  provoked  by  his  personality  remained  un- 
changed —  the  stimulus  to  a  new  outlook  on  life.  Ere 
the  simple  meal  was  ended,  Hattie  found  herself 
wondering  over  the  way  in  which  Maggie  sat  dreamily 
silent,  her  eyes  watching  the  cloud  masses  in  the  distant 
bit  of  sky,  the  rose  tints  in  her  cheeks  burning  a  deeper 
hue,  her  red  lips  bending  gently  toward  a  smile.  Hattie 
shook  her  head  in  token  that  the  meaning  of  all  this 
was  beyond  her  comprehension;  but  some  delicate 
feminine  instinct  warned  her  well,  and  she  refrained 
from  questioning. 

When  the  luncheon  was  done,  the  two  resumed  their 
work  in  silence.  In  Maggie's  case,  to  stimulation  suc- 
ceeded depression.  Her  mind  reverted  in  dismay  to 
the  fact  that  she  had  lost  all  hope  of  advancement  with 
Holbrooke's  by  Hargen's  refusal  of  the  vacancy;  in 
addition,  her  own  absurd  indiscretion  had  now  rendered 
precarious,  to  say  the  least,  her  continuance  with  the 


STEPS  TO  TROUBLE  91 

firm  in  any  position  whatsoever.  Her  mood  was  at 
its  blackest  when  a  diversion  was  offered  by  the  appear- 
ance of  Jake  Rothschild,  who,  as  usual,  chose  forbidden 
hours  for  his  visit. 

Maggie  regarded  his  approach  with  a  disgust  that 
she  was  at  no  pains  to  conceal  from  its  object. 

"You  talk  to  him,  Hattie,"  she  called  out.  "I  simply 
can't  stand  him  to-day." 

Miss  Murphy  rose  to  the  occasion  with  a  bluntness 
and  dispatch  that  were  admirable  in  their  way.  She 
pointed  commandingly  toward  the  elevator ;  her  words 
were  explicit: 

"Get  out!" 

Jake,  halting  in  some  confusion,  allowed  himself 
the  rare  luxury  of  retort  to  an  indignity : 

"She  said  you  vas  to  talk  vit  me,"  he  objected,  his 
pronunciation  suffering  for  an  instant  from  choler; 
"not  insult  me." 

Maggie,  repentant  of  her  rudeness,  intervened  for 
his  relief. 

"I'm  not  the  one  you  wish  to  see,"  she  explained. 
"You  must  hunt  up  some  dressmaker,  whoever  she  is. 
She's  the  new  buyer." 

Jake's  face  lengthened.  He  shot  forth  his  cuffs 
suddenly,  and  contemplated  the  splendid  buttons  with 


92  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

consternation  writ  large  on  his  face.  In  his  way,  the 
man  was  fond  of  Miss  Pepper,  and  he  felt  a  brief  pang 
of  unselfish  sorrow  for  her  disappointment.  The 
emotion  was  so  unfamiliar  that  he  gave  his  entire 
attention  to  it  while  it  lasted,  half-pleased  by  it,  half- 
alarmed. 

"Oh,  I  see,"  he  said  at  last.  "You  wasn't  elected. 
What?" 

"No,"  came  the  answer,  in  a  tired  voice;  "I  lost  by 
one  vote  —  the  manager's." 

Under  the  impulse  of  sympathy,  fortified  by  a  lively 
hope  of  possible  financial  gains  for  himself,  Jake 
approached  the  desk  closely,  and  spoke  in  a  confidential 
whisper : 

"Never  you  mind,  Miss  Pepper."  He  added  a  wink 
for  emphasis.  "You  and  I  can  always  do  a  little  busi- 
ness on  the  side,  you  know.  You  can  pick  up  a  few 
hundred  commission.  What?" 

The  girl  regarded  the  jobber  with  contempt. 

"I  take  my  commission  from  the  house  I  work  for. 
Any  other  profits  can  go  to  the  firm,  for  all  me." 

"Now,  that's  the  trouble  with  women,"  Jake  pro- 
tested, throwing  out  his  hands  in  a  racial  gesture  of 
deprecation.  "They  mix  business  and  them  sentiments. 
Pretty  soon,  they  cut  out  the  business,  and  then  they's 


STEPS  TO  TROUBLE  93 

nothing  but  them  sentiments  —  nothing  doing.  What  ? 
.  .  .  Now,  you  just  listen  to  me.  Oh,  what  profit  — 
something  I  tell  you !"  He  whipped  a  pocket-case 
from  somewhere  about  his  person,  and  thrust  it  open 
under  the  girl's  face.  "It's  the  chance  of  a  lifetime," 
he  breathed.  His  bearing  was  that  of  one  under 
tremendous  stress.  "One  hundred  Paquin  models! 
They " 

The  interruption  came  ruthlessly,  in  a  cold,  level 
voice. 

"Mr.  Rothschild,  you're  on  a  busy  wire.  Will  you, 
please,  hang  up  the  receiver?" 

Her  closing  word  was  like  the  red  rag  to  a  bull  for 
this  man,  who  had  often  been  thwarted  in  financial 
schemes  by  legal  interference  with  his  affairs. 

"I'd  like  to  hang  up  all  receivers  —  by  their  toes," 
he  spluttered;  "especially  the  one  who  was  appointed 
for  our  last  failure.  Why,  that  there  feller,  he  didn't 
leave  enough  to  buv  an  evening  paper.  It  was  a 
crime!" 

The  house-detective  came  to  Maggie's  relief  from 
the  importunities  of  the  loquacious  jobber.  Her  crisp 
air  of  authority  subdued  the  reluctant  Jake,  and  he 
slowly  took  his  departure.  At  once,  then,  Mrs. 


94  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

Thatcher  drew  close  to  Maggie  at  the  desk,  and  whis- 
pered so  that  Hattie  should  not  overhear. 

"My  dear,"  she  said  regretfully,  "I  saw  that  woman 
again,  just  a  little  while  ago.  She  was  outside  in  the 
street,  looking  in  at  our  window  display." 

Maggie  uttered  an  ejaculation  of  dismay.  She  knew 
perfectly  the  identity  of  the  person  to  whom  the  detec- 
tive referred  thus  secretly.  It  was  her  own  sister-in- 
law,  who  had  been  the  wife  of  her  one  brother,  now 
dead;  a  woman  older  than  herself,  more  weak  than 
vicious,  yet  a  criminal  by  reason  of  the  influences  to 
which  she  had  yielded.  After  a  few  years  of  respectable 
married  life,  in  which  she  had  become  the  mother  of 
one  child,  a  girl,  Ada  had  fallen  victim  to  the  charms 
of  James  Darkin,  whose  sole  merit,  if  such  it  should  be 
termed,  was  an  exterior  handsome  in  a  flamboyant, 
bandit  fashion.  The  man  was  thoroughly  bad,  and 
soon,  partly  by  persuasion,  chiefly  by  cruelty  and 
threats  of  worse,  he  made  his  wife  a  thief.  Mrs. 
Thatcher,  in  the  course  of  her  professional  duties,  had 
come  to  learn  of  Mrs.  Darkin,  and  she  was  aware  that 
the  woman  had  already  achieved  an  unsavory  reputation 
with  the  police.  Knowing  her  to  be  Maggie's  sister-in- 
law,  it  was  for  the  girl's  sake  that  the  detective  now 
came  to  give  a  word  of  warning.  "She's  suspected  by 


STEPS  TO  TROUBLE  95 

the  police  of  a  number  of  small  jobs,"  Mrs.  Thatcher 
added,  "and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I'd  have  ordered  her  away 
from  our  place,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you." 

Maggie's  face  hardened,  swiftly.  Her  own  misery 
to-day  rendered  her  less  charitable  than  her  natural 
kindliness  of  heart  ordinarily  directed  her  to  be. 

"Don't  spare  her  on  my  account,"  she  answered. 
"I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  of  course,  Mrs.  Thatcher, 
for  thinking  of  my  feelings ;  but  I  just  don't  care  what 
happens  to  her.  She  deserves  all  she'll  get,  whatever 
it  may  be.  When  my  brother,  Frank,  died,"  she  con- 
tinued, with  a  sudden  fierceness  born  from  the  memory 
of  wrongs  endured  at  this  woman's  hands,  "after  living 
two  dreadful  years  of  married  life  with  her,  I  tried  to 
do  everything  I  could  for  her,  just  because  she  was  his 
wife.  But  now  —  well,  I'm  through;  that's  the  size 
of  it.  You  know,  I  would  have  kept  Frank's  little 
girl  with  me.  When  she  took  her  away  from  me  — 
the  girl  I'd  brought  up  from  a  baby,  been  a  mother 
to  —  when  she  did  that,  and  went  West  with  this 
Darkin,  why  I  broke  off  having  anything  at  all  to  do 
with  her  any  more.  .  .  .  Tell  me :  Was  the  little  girl 
with  her?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  so,"  Mrs.  Thatcher  replied.    "At 


96  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

least,  I  didn't  notice  any  child  that  seemed  to  belong 
with  her.  But  you  can't  always  tell." 

The  hardness  had  vanished  from  Maggie's  face  now, 
at  thought  of  the  girl  whom  she  had  loved  as  her  own. 
When  she  spoke  again,  the  soft  resonance  of  her  voice 
was  touched  with  a  wistfulness  that  moved  the  listener 
to  sympathy. 

"I  get  a  heartache  when  I  let  myself  think  of  that 
poor  little  baby."  Her  tones  grew  deeper,  as  if  in 
reverent  wonder,  as  she  went  on.  "Think  of  it,  Mrs. 
Thatcher :  I  was  that  little  child's  mother  —  for  five 
years.  I  brought  her  up,  and,  for  five  years,  she  be- 
longed to  me;  she  was  mine  —  mine!  God!  What's 
going  to  become  of  her  with  a  mother  like  hers  and 
with  Jim  Darkin  for  a  father?  Jim  Darkin  for  a 
father!  She  hasn't  anybody  to  guide  her.  There's 
nobody  to  care  what  becomes  of  her.  And,  now,  she 
must  be  almost  fifteen  years  old.  She's  almost  grown 
up.  What's  going  to  become  of  her  ?  It's  awful  for  a 
young  girl  like  that.  And  I  was  just  wrapped  up  in 
her!"  There  were  tears  in  the  tender  music  of  the 
voice  now.  "I  loved  her  so !  She  was  something  to  go 

home  to,  something  to  live  for "  The  rush  of 

emotion  was  too  great.  The  girl  checked  herself 
abruptly,  striving  to  regain  her  self-control. 


STEPS  TO  TROUBLE  97 

Mrs.  Thatcher  patted  the  suffering  girl's  arm,  reas- 
suringly. 

"There  —  there !"  she  murmured,  affectionately.  "I 
know,  dear!" 

"Frank  was  only  a  boy  when  he  married  her," 
Maggie  went  on,  more  quietly.  "It  just  killed  him." 
Her  voice  grew  harsh.  "She's  our  family  Jonah,  all 
right.  Why,  I  get  a  cold  shiver  down  my  back  every 
time  I  so  much  as  hear  her  name  mentioned.  .  .  .  And 
to  think  of  that  baby!  Say,  she  was  the  cutest  little 
thing."  The  girl's  suddenly  uplifted  eyes  were  radiant 
through  their  mist  of  tears.  "Just  let  me  tell  you  what 
she  did  when  she  was  only  two  years  old." 

And  the  elder  woman,  smiling,  bent  to  listen. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

ADA   DARKIN 

MAGGIE  was  in  a  more  cheerful  mood  after  the  de- 
tective had  left  her.  By  a  serious  effort  of  will,  she  put 
her  troubles  out  of  mind,  and  busied  herself  with  the 
routine  of  her  work.  As  a  rule,  her  disposition  was 
of  the  sunniest.  To-day,  melancholy  had  claimed  her 
for  its  own  because  of  the  greatness  of  the  sorrow  that 
was  come  from  the  wrecking  of  ambitious  hopes;  and 
thus,  too,  she  had  been  predisposed  to  place  the  worst 
construction  on  her  predicament  in  reference  to  the 
proprietor  with  whom  she  had  gossiped  and  on  the 
difficulties  that  might  result  from  the  presence  of  Ada 
Darkin  in  the  city.  The  sympathy  of  Mrs.  Thatcher, 
however,  had  cheered  her  mightily,  and  the  strength 
derived  from  the  kindly  woman  enabled  her  to  dismiss 
the  bulk  of  worry  from  her  thoughts.  Only,  from  time 
to  time,  her  dread  of  harm  for  Ada's  child  would 
descend  upon  her  spirit.  Again  and  again,  she  drove 
the  evil  imagination  from  her,  but  always,  after  an 


ADA  DARKIN  99 

interval  of  relief,  it  recurred  to  torment  her  peace. 
And  then,  finally,  in  a  moment  when  the  dread  was 
heavy  on  her,  she  felt  the  weight  of  it  grow  suddenly 
crushing1.  She  looked  up  in  an  instant  of  terror,  and 
saw  the  mother  of  the  child  standing  before  her. 

"Hello,  Maggie !"  came  the  easy  salutation,  in  a  voice 
once  pleasant,  now  harsh.  It  was  evident  that  the 
woman  had  been  handsome  in  a  bold  way,  but  now  the 
color  was  too  high,  the  lips  were  too  loose,  the  eyes 
too  furtive  and  hard.  From  the  richness  of  her  hat, 
one  would  guess  that  she  might  be  elaborately  gowned, 
but  the  details  of  her  costume  were  almost  wholly 
concealed  by  a  voluminous  cloak  which  extended  to 
her  heels.  She  had  been  standing  at  some  distance 
from  the  desk  when  Maggie  looked  up,  but,  with  her 
careless  phrase  of  greeting,  she  strode  forward,  and 
halted  immediately  before  the  desk,  gazing  down  good- 
naturedly  at  her  step-sister. 

At  first  sight  of  the  woman,  Maggie  had  given  a 
violent  start,  and  the  color  had  fled  from  her  cheeks. 
Then,  her  glance  swept  the  room,  and  she  sighed  with 
a  sense  of  relief  on  perceiving  that  it  was  empty;  even 
Hattie  had  betaken  herself  elsewhere.  Maggie  won- 
dered vaguely  that  she  had  not  heard  the  sound  of  the 
elevator-door  opening  and  closing.  In  the  same 


ioo  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

second,  she  hit  on  the  explanation:  Ada  had  not 
chosen  the  usual  way  of  entrance;  for  reasons  of  her 
own  she  had  slipped  up  the  stairway,  and  come  in  at 
the  door.  As  her  eyes  returned  to  the  woman,  Maggie 
opened  her  lips  to  speak,  but  her  expression  was  so 
disturbed  that  Ada  hastened  to  forestall  her. 

"Now,  now!"  she  urged.  "Hush!  Don't  make  a 
fuss.  I  haven't  done  any  harm.  Don't  be  a  goose,  my 
dear  Maggie." 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  The  girl's  tones  were 
level  and  cold. 

"Oh,  I  just  happened  to  be  downstairs,  looking 
around,"  was  the  jaunty  reply,  "so  I  thought  I'd  drop 
in  for  a  minute  to  say  how  d'ye  do." 

Maggie's  frown  of  alarm  deepened  to  one  of  anger. 

"You  promised  me  solemnly  that  you'd  never  come 
here  again,"  she  said,  savagely.  Her  manner  was  so 
menacing  that  Ada  drew  back  a  step,  with  an  uneasy 
attempt  at  a  smile. 

"Oh,  well,  we  can't  always  keep  our  promises,"  was 
the  excuse.  "Circumstances  alter  cases  —  and  prom- 
ises. I  came  in  just  now  because  I  want  you  to  help  me 
out.  That's  why  I  came  up  the  back  way  —  in  a  hurry, 
too.  If  they  should  come  in  here,  I  want  you  to  say 
that  I  came  at  your  invitation,  and  that  I've  been  here 


ADA  DARKIN  101 

all  the  time  —  never  out  of  your  sight  for  a  second. 
Understand  ?"  The  woman's  voice  had  grown  fiercely 
entreating. 

The  flush  of  anger  faded  from  Maggie's  face.  Her 
heart  was  sick  within  her.  .  .  .  This  was  the  mother 
of  the  child  she  loved  —  the  mother,  this  frightened, 
flying  thief,  whining  for  help,  coward  and  criminal. 

"Mrs.  Thatcher  was  here  only  a  little  while  ago," 
she  said,  in  a  lifeless  voice.  "She  knows  that  you  were 
not  here  then." 

Ada's  face  grayed  under  the  rouge. 

"Thatcher !  That  damned  old  cat !"  she  snarled.  "I 
must  get  out  somehow  without  her  seeing  me." 

Despite  the  misery  of  the  woman's  presence,  Maggie 
could  not  neglect  to  satisfy  her  heart-hunger  for  the 
child. 

"Where  is  she  ?"  she  asked,  softly  now.  "Where  is 
Margie?" 

"Oh,  she's  all  right,"  was  the  indifferent  response. 

"If  she  needs  anything,  if  you  can't  attend  to  her 
properly  as  a  mother  should,  you  must  let  me  care  for 
her."  The  girl's  voice  was  timid,  almost  supplicating. 

"She  gets  all  the  care  she  needs,"  Ada  declared, 
sullenly.  Her  gaze  darted  here  and  there,  suspiciously. 


102  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"Jim  looks  after  her  as  if  she  was  his  own  child,  as  if 
he  was  her  father." 

Maggie  fairly  cowered  in  her  chair  at  the  callous 
words.  It  was  ghastly  to  think  of  the  girl  under  the 
tutelage  of  that  evil  ruffian.  For  a  moment,  she  could 
not  speak — could  only  huddle  in  her  place,  staring, 
horror-stricken,  at  this  woman  who  was  a  mother. 
Then,  presently,  Ada's  shrinking  manner  impressed 
itself  on  her  consciousness,  and  she  guessed  its  signifi- 
cance. 

"Why  are  you  so  afraid?"  she  questioned.  "Have 
you  —  have  you  taken  anything?"  Ada  shuddered 
under  the  probe  of  the  girl's  eyes.  Her  whole  appear- 
ance was  a  confession  of  guilt.  "You  have — you 
have !"  Maggie  cried.  "What  have  you  —  how  dared 
you  ?"  She  was  near  choking  under  the  rack  of  vica- 
rious shame  —  shame  for  Margie's  mother.  "What 
have  you  stolen?"  she  asked,  at  last,  more  quietly. 

Ada  evaded  the  question  —  perhaps  not  by  intent, 
for  fear  was  strong  on  her. 

"Are  you  going  to  keep  me  here  till  someone  comes, 

and ?"  She  could  not  complete  the  sentence,  but 

stood  trembling,  with  her  clasped  hands  thrust  forward 
in  appeal. 

"Perhaps!"     The  unexpected  answer,  spoken  with 


ADA  DARKIN  103 

deliberate  coldness,  struck  the  woman  like  a  whiplash, 
so  that  she  drew  her  breath  in  a  great  gasp,  and  the 
grayness  of  her  face  became  a  deadly  pallor.  Her  eyes 
questioned  wildly.  "It  all  depends."  An  inspiration 
had  come  to  Maggie,  and  she  was  following  it  with 
faith :  She  would  turn  this  mother's  terror  into  safety 
for  the  child.  "I'll  help  you  all  I  can  —  if  you  will 
give  me  back  Frank's  little  girl.  She's  mine  by  right. 
I've  mothered  her  for  five  years.  You've  never  moth- 
ered her.  Give  her  to  me,  will  you?" 

Always,  Ada's  eyes  were  roving  the  room  in  the 
same  furtive  fashion.  She  had  small  heed  for  aught 
save  the  danger  close  upon  her.  Now,  as  Maggie 
paused,  waiting  for  a  reply,  she  spoke  hurriedly,  care- 
lessly : 

"I'll  think  it  over."  Then,  as  the  girl  uttered  an  ' 
indignant  exclamation :  "Oh,  well,  I  suppose  you  can 
have  her  —  if  you  can  get  Jim's  consent.  It  don't 
make  any  difference  to  me.  Yes,  yes,"  she  concluded, 
as  the  realization  of  peril  again  assailed  her,  "you  can 
have  her  —  only,  get  me  out  of  here  for  heaven's  sake." 
Maggie  sprang  up  with  a  glad  cry;  she  would  have 
taken  Ada's  hand.  "Cut  out  the  blessings-on-your- 
head  stuff !"  the  woman  exclaimed,  roughly.  "Get  me 
out  of  here !" 


io4  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"This  way,"  Maggie  said  quietly,  coming  from 
behind  the  desk.  She  looked  up  as  a  strangled  shriek 
broke  from  Ada.  ...  In  the  doorway  stood  Mrs. 
Thatcher. 

There  was  a  grim  smile  on  the  detective's  face.  All 
the  kindliness  of  so  short  a  time  ago  had  vanished, 
leaving  it  stern,  implacable. 

"I  had  an  idea  you  would  sneak  up  here,  when  you 
found  you  couldn't  get  out  through  the  front  doors," 
she  said  to  the  wretched  woman,  who  was  cringing 
before  her.  "It's  no  use  Drying  to  get  away,  Mrs. 
Darkin.  .  .  .  Now,  there's  a  child's  ermine  set  and  a 
sable  collar  from  the  fur-department,  and  whatever 
else  you  may  have  gathered  in  during  your  little  trip 
through  Holbrooke's  store."  The  detective  turned 
toward  Maggie,  who  was  standing  forlornly  alongside 
the  accused,  and  her  face  softened  in  commiseration. 
"I'm  sorry,  Maggie;  but  it  can't  be  helped."  Her 
official  expression  appeared  again,  as  she  addressed 
Mrs.  Darkin:  "Come  on,  now!" 

By  this  time,  the  guilty  woman  had  recovered  some 
measure  of  assurance,  since  the  worst  had  come  to  pass, 
and  she  made  a  futile  effort  to  bluster. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,"  she 
declared,  with  an  air  meant  to  be  haughty. 


ADA  DARKIN  105 

"So,  you're  not  content  with  a  quiet  arrest,"  Mrs. 
Thatcher  remarked,  significantly.  "You  want  to  be 
dragged  through  the  streets  by  the  police.  You're 
anxious  for  public  disgrace,  are  you  ?  Well,  you'll  get 
it,  unless Oh,  come  on  now !  Produce !" 

"Please  do,  Ada,"  Maggie  entreated,  desirous  of 
escaping  a  scene,  for  the  child's  sake. 

But  the  woman  was  hopelessly  recalcitrant. 

"Shut  up !"  she  snapped  to  the  girl.  "I  haven't  been 
near  the  fur-department." 

"Of  course  not,"  Mrs.  Thatcher  agreed,  with  weary 
sarcasm.  "I  suppose  the  furs  just  crawled  around, 
looking  for  you,  and  then,  when  they  had  found  you, 
jumped  on  you  and  hid.  Anyhow,  we'll  see  about  it." 

The  detective's  intentions  toward  the  prisoner  were 
destined  to  be  postponed,  for  at  this  moment  a  diver- 
sion occurred.  The  door  of  the  elevator  slid  open,  and 
from  within  emerged  a  policeman,  dragging  after  him 
a  young  girl.  Behind  them  came  one  of  the  sales- 
women, who  was  weeping  copiously.  Despite  the  flood 
of  tears,  however,  she  was  able  to  see  clearly  enough, 
for,  the  moment  she  stepped  forth  from  the  cage,  she 
pointed  a  dramatic  finger  at  Mrs.  Darkin. 

"That's  her!"  she  screamed.  "That's  the  one,  I 
tell  you!" 


106  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

From  this  moment  on,  Maggie  gave  only  a  sub- 
conscious attention  to  what  went  on  around  her,  for 
she  had  recognized  the  child :  It  was  the  Margie  of  her 
love.  She  was  dazed  by  the  discovery.  The  hideous- 
ness  of  the  event  pierced  her  with  an  anguish  so 
poignant  that  the  light  faded  from  her  eyes,  and  all 
grew  black.  She  swayed,  almost  swooning.  Then,  in 
a  flash,  she  nerved  herself  to  strength,  fought  the 
weakness,  conquered  it.  White  and  shaken,  she  was 
still  keenly  alert,  ready  by  every  means  in  her  power 
to  rescue  the  child  from  the  threatened  degradation. 
As  she  aroused  herself,  she  knew  in  a  gleam  of 
automatic  memory  that  the  saleswoman  had  identified 
Mrs.  Darkin  as  the  one  who  had  been  seen  acting 
suspiciously  in  the  fur-department,  and,  too,  seen 
talking  with  the  child.  She  remembered,  as  well,  that 
a  search  of  Ada  had  brought  to  light  from  a  muff  a 
number  of  valuable'  furs.  She  had  reached  this  point 
in  her  thoughts,  when  she  became  aware  that  Mrs. 

Thatcher  was  questioning  her  niece. 

\ 

"Do  you  know  this  woman?"  the  detective  de- 
manded, indicating  Ada. 

To  Maggie's  amazement,  Margie  shook  her  head. 
The  child  denied  her  own  mother.  But  she  began  to 
understand,  when  Mrs.  Thatcher  turned  to  the  prisoner 


ADA  DARKIN  107 

with  a  similar  question,  to  which  Ada  replied  loftily: 
"Certainly  not!  I  never  saw  her  in  my  life  before." 

"Oh,  of  course  not!"  the  detective  agreed,  cynically. 
"Funny,  though,  that  the  saleswoman  here  should  have 
had  that  dream  of  having  seen  them  talking  together. 
Anyhow,  they'll  have  a  chance  to  tell  it  to  the  judge. 
.  .  .  Take  her  along  with  you,  Johnson,"  she  directed 
the  policeman  briskly,  with  a  nod  toward  Mrs.  Darkin. 
"I'll  attend  to  the  little  one.  She's  got  to  be  searched 
first;  but  there  won't  be  anything  on  her.  She's  just 
the  lookout,  I  guess.  .  .  .  You  can  get  back  to  your 
work,  too,  miss,"  she  concluded,  addressing  the  sales- 
woman, whose  tears  were  drying  at  last. 

As  the  others  took  their  departure,  the  detective 
engaged  in  the  task  of  searching  Margie,  but  nothing 
incriminating  was  found.  When  she  had  made  an  end, 
she  was  astonished  by  a  sharply  spoken  question  from 
Maggie,  who  had  stood  by,  watching  somberly 

"What  has  this  child  done,  Mrs.  Thatcher,  that  she 
should  be  made  to  suffer  such  humiliation  ?" 

"What  has  she  done?"  the  detective  retorted,  in- 
dignantly. "Didn't  you  hear  the  saleswoman  identify 
the  little  girl  as  having  been  with  Mrs.  Darkin?  She 
saw  them  talking  together."  She  stared  severely  at 
the  culprit.  "What's  your  name?"  There  was  no 


ro8  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

answer.  The  smartly,  if  flashily,  dressed  girl,  whose 
appearance  indicated  that  she  was  about  seventeen 
years  old,  maintained  a  stubborn  silence.  Mrs. 
Thatcher  sniffed,  and  faced  Maggie  again.  "You  see?" 
she  said,  triumphantly.  "She's  too  well  trained  to  talk. 
She's  a  clever  little  crook,  that's  all.  I  know  the  brand 
of  goods.  She  keeps  watch  while  the  other  one  steals. 
Oh,  yer,  I  know  little  Miss  Innocence.  .  .  .  And  she'll 
just  go  along  with  me." 

Maggie  realized  that  now  the  time  was  come  for 
final  interference,  if  she  would  save  the  child  whom  she 
loved.  Her  voice  was  husky  with  the  suspense  of  the 
moment  as  she  spoke: 

"Don't  take  her  away,  Mrs.  Thatcher  —  don't !  I'll 
be  responsible  for  her." 

Mrs.  Thatcher  regarded  the  speaker  with  unqualified 
amazement. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Maggie  Pepper,"  she  advised, 
candidly. 

"Oh,  I  beg  of  you  —  give  her  a  chance.  Mrs. 
Thatcher"  —  Maggie  caught  the  detective  appealingly 
by  the  arm  —  "dear  old  Thatch!  Won't  you  trust 
me?" 

"Now,  don't  you  dare  'Thatch'  me,"  the  elder 
woman  cried,  reprovingly  —  highly  pleased  none  the 


ADA  DARKIN.  109 

less.  "You  know  I've  always  liked  you,  Maggie " 

she  was  continuing  in  a  conciliatory  tone,  only  to  stop 
short  as  she  heard  the  softly  breathed  supplication : 

"Oh,  please,  dear  Mrs.  Thatcher !" 

"I'd  do  anything  you  asked  me,"  the  detective  de- 
clared, in  distress;  "but  this  is  a  matter  of  business, 
of  my  duty.  I'm  responsible  to  my  employers  for 
what  goes  on  in  the  store."  She  paused  again,  to 
watch  wonderingly  as  Maggie  went  to  the  stolid- 
appearing  girl,  took  the  two  little  hands  in  her  own. 
and  fell  to  weeping  silently,  while  the  child  herself 
looked  on  with  an  astonishment  that  tore  off  the  mask 
of  apathy.  "Oh,  well,  then,"  Mrs.  Thatcher  exclaimed, 
seriously  troubled  by  Maggie's  display  of  emotion,  "I'll 
tell  you  what  I'll  do :  I'll  not  take  her  to  the  station. 
I'll  send  an  officer  of  the  Society  over  after  her, 
instead." 

On  the  instant,  the  last  trace  of  the  child's  indiffer- 
ence fled.  The  young  learned  in  evil  courses  are  early 
taught  to  hate  beyond  all  else  falling  into  the  clutches 
of  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Chil- 
dren. Now,  the  little  prisoner  sprang  toward  the 
detective,  and  cried  out  shrilly : 

"No,  no!     Not  the  Society!     Anything  but  that!" 

Mrs.    Thatcher   cast   a   glance   of   satisfaction   on 


no  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

Maggie,  who  stood  bewildered  by  the  unexpected  out- 
burst. 

"You  see?  She  knows.  Why,  my  dear,  it's  as 
plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face.  She's  an  old-timer. 
.  .  .  Come  on  —  you !"  She  caught  the  child's  hand, 
and  started  toward  the  elevator. 

At  that,  Maggie  braced  herself  to  renew  the  attack. 

"Mrs.  Thatcher,"  she  said  gravely  to  the  detective, 
who  halted  to  listen,  "I  must  have  this  child.  Let  me 
tell  you  why.  She  has  forgotten  me,  but  I  —  I  haven't 
forgotten  her  —  because  I  loved  her  so !  She's  my 
brother  Frank's  little  girl.  Do  you  understand,  now  ? 
Let  me  have  her."  The  voice  sank  to  a  murmur  of 
prayer.  "Oh,  let  me  have  her !" 

The  detective  was  deeply  moved.  All  the  maternal 
instinct  in  her  rose  swiftly  to  do  battle  in  Maggie's 
behalf.  Her  rugged  face  beamed  tenderly  on  the  be- 
seeching one  before  her. 

"Is  she  —  the  baby  —  the  one  you  told  me  of  ?  Oh, 
dear!  Oh,  dear!  Poor  little  devil!"  Her  eyes  met 
Maggie's  fairly,  and  answered  them.  "Oh,  well,  I'll 
have  to  take  a  chance,  of  course,  if  that's  the  case." 
Her  tone  was  very  brusk,  and  she  sniffed  violently. 

Maggie  cast  her  arms  around  the  detective's  neck, 
and  kissed  the  lips  that  met  hers  warmly. 


ADA  DARKIN  in 

"You  good  old  Thatch !"  she  whispered. 
Presently,  the  detective  went  out  of  the  room,  and 
aunt  and  niece  were  left  alone  together. 


CHAPTER    IX 

PER     J.     H. 

IT  was  closing  time  for  Holbrooke  and  Company. 
Maggie  glanced  over  her  desk,  arranged  the  litter  in 
order,  picked  up  a  letter  addressed  to  herself,  which, 
she  remembered  dimly,  Murchison  had  laid  there  some 
time  during  the  afternoon  without  any  explanation, 
and  thrust  it  into  her  muff.  When  she  was  ready  for 
the  street,  she  turned  to  the  child,  who  had  stood 
waiting  apathetically. 

"You  are  to  go  with  me,"  she  said,  and  led  the  way 
toward  the  elevator.  She  was  not  minded  to  enter 
into  explanations  now.  After  the  strain  of  the  day, 
she  felt  curiously  numb,  lethargic.  It  would  be  time 
enough  for  a  talk  with  the  girl  when  they  were  in  the 
seclusion  of  the  flat.  Besides,  the  stock-room,  with 
the  possibility  of  interruptions  even  at  this  late  hour, 
was  ill-suited  to  an  exchange  of  confidences  such  as 
must  be  between  herself  and  her  niece. 

The  child  followed  obediently,  without  question. 
112 


PER  J.  H.  113 

She  doubtless  experienced  some  measure  of  gratitude 
toward  this  singular  person  who  had  interfered  in 
her  behalf,  who  had,  indeed,  rescued  her  from  the 
threatened  horror  of  the  Society.  So,  she  accompanied 
her  protector  very  willingly,  thankful,  indeed,  that 
she  had  escaped  a  worse  fate,  such  as  had  befallen  her 
mother. 

It  was  not  until  after  the  simple  meal,  which 
Maggie  prepared,  had  been  eaten,  and  the  dishes 
washed  and  put  away  with  the  assistance  of  the  child, 
that  an  intimate  conversation  began.  The  two  had 
sat  and  worked  together  in  almost  unbroken  silence, 
mutually  awaiting  the  opportunity  when  there  should 
be  no  distractions.  Now,  however,  there  was  no 
further  reason  for  delay.  They  were  seated  in  the 
little  parlor  of  the  flat,  opposite  each  other  at  a  table 
on  which  a  shaded  lamp  burned  cheerfully.  The  new 
apartment  into  which  Maggie  had  moved  under  the 
impulse  of  her  hope  for  advancement  was  a  snug1 
place,  neatly  and  tastefully  furnished,  though  not  in 
the  least  luxurious.  It  already  possessed  something 
infinitely  better  than  splendor:  an  air  of  homeliness. 
Maggie  reflected  with  satisfaction  that  here  she  could 
keep  the  girl  comfortably,  which  she  could  not  have 
done  in  her  old  rooms.  Somehow,  she  must  economize 


ii4  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

to  such  an  extent  as  to  retain  this  place,  despite  her 
failure  to  secure  the  advance,  with  its  larger  salary, 
on  which  she  had  relied.  Her  heart  chilled  for  a 
moment,  as  she  again  recalled  the  failure  of  her  hopes, 
but  she  resolutely  put  the  matter  from  her  thoughts. 
The  thing  was  ended,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be 
gained  by  repining.  Her  present  duty  was  just  there, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  sitting  in  a  stolid  patience 
remarkable  for  one  so  young  —  a  patience  perhaps 
deplorable,  since  it  suggested  over-training  in  self- 
control. 

"Margie,"  Maggie  said,  at  last,  in  a  voice  that  was 
a  little  weary,  and  very,  very  sweet,  "don't  you  know 
me?" 

The  great  gray  eyes  of  the  child  —  the  eyes  that 
were  Frank's  very  own  —  met  Maggie's  in  a  stare  of 
unconcealed  surprise.  She  shook  her  head. 

"No,"  she  declared.  It  was  plain  that  she  spoke 
the  truth.  For  that  matter,  there  was  nothing  to  gain 
by  false  denials.  The  child  had  forgotten  her  aunt 
completely.  The  fact  saddened  Maggie,  although  she 
had  expected  nothing  else.  It  seemed  unjust  that  the 
memory  of  her  should  have  been  thus  blotted  out, 
where  she  had  loved  with  all  her  heart 

After  a  slight  pause,  she  spoke  again,  hesitatingly : 


PER  J.  H.  115 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  your  Aunt  Margaret  ?"  Her 
tone  was  tenderly  wistful. 

This  time,  the  child  showed  greater  animation.  She 
twisted  in  her  chair,  and  nodded  violently. 

"Oh,  yes!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  heard  she  was  no 
good." 

Maggie,  who  had  leaned  forward  anxiously,  with 
her  red  lips  trembling  toward  a  smile  of  welcome, 
sank  back  into  her  seat,  and  the  lips  drooped  sorrow- 
fully. It  was  thus  that  the  child  whom  she  had  so 
loved  and  cared  for  through  five  years  was  taught  to 
think  of  her.  It  was  a  shameful  thing.  Her  spirit 
revolted  against  the  injustice  of  it.  A  new  note  in 
her  voice  caused  the  girl  to  shrink  a  little  when  she 
asked  the  next  question : 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

"Why,  mother  did,"  was  the  answer.  "She  said 
she'd  beat  the  life  out  of  me  if  I  ever  spoke  to  my 
Aunt  Margaret."  A  fierce  anger  against  the  woman 
shook  Maggie  at  the  words.  .  .  .  That  mother  had 
been  vile,  indeed,  thus  to  defame  the  one  who  had  suc- 
cored her  child.  But  the  feeling  passed  as  the  girl 
went  on  speaking  in  a  sudden  fury  of  grief  over  this 
same  mother.  "Oh  —  oh !  They've  taken  her  away !" 
The  thin  treble  rose  shrilly.  "Poor  mother !  I  knew 


ii6  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

it  would  happen  —  I  knew  it  would  —  I  knew  it! 
They'll  send  her  up,  and  I'll  be  alone  again.  .  .  .  But 
I  won't  go  back  to  him  —  I  won't !  I  won't !  I'd  — 
I'd  rather  go  to  the  Society  than  to  him." 

Quick  joy  surged  in  Maggie's  breast.  She  forgot 
her  wrath  against  the  mother  in  delight  over  the 
child's  detestation  of  the  man  whom  she,  too,  loathed. 
It  spoke  well  for  the  girl's  instincts  that  she  should 
thus  hate  and  fear  Darkin  —  for  that  the  reference 
was  to  him  could  not  be  doubted.  But,  to  make  assur- 
ance doubly  sure,  she  put  the  question : 

"Go  back  to  him?"  she  repeated.  "To  whom  do  you 
mean  ?" 

The  child  was  sitting  stiffly  erect,  her  slim  body 
tense  with  determination,  her  gray  eyes  hard  and 
brilliant. 

"Father,"  she  answered,  savagely. 

Disgust  clutched  the  listener.  That  use  of  the  word 
was  an  insult  to  her  dead  brother,  Frank. 

"Your  father  has  been  dead  since  you  were  two 
years  old,"  she  said,  very  coldly. 

At  this,  the  expression  of  the  child's  face  turned 
instantly  to  one  of  wonder. 

"Dead  —  my  father?"  she  exclaimed,  her  eyes 
widening.  "Dead?  Why,  isn't  my  name  Darkin?" 


PER  J.  H.  117 

Pity  for  the  poor,  deceived  creature,  who  had  been 
so  precious  to  her,  drove  all  other  emotions  from 
Maggie's  breast,  and  she  answered  with  a  world  of 
tenderness  in  the  music  of  her  voice : 

"Your  name,  dear,  is  the  same  as  mine:  Margaret 
Pepper." 

The  child  drew  down  her  brows  in  a  frown,  curi- 
ously out  of  place  on  the  young  and  pretty  face. 

"Why,"  she  cried  excitedly,  "if  it's  the  same  as 
yours  —  you  —  you  are  my  Aunt  Margaret !  .  .  .  But 
say,  Auntie,  if  he  ain't  my  father,  what  right  has  he  to 
beat  me?" 

Maggie  shrank,  as  if  she  herself  had  been  struck. 

"Does  he  —  that  man,  Darkin  —  dare  to  beat  you?" 
she  demanded.  Her  eyes  shot  fire. 

The  child  made  a  grimace,  suggestive  of  painful 
memories. 

"Does  he!"  she  retorted,  sarcastically.  "If  you 
knew  him,  you  wouldn't  need  to  ask.  Huh !  He  beats 
us  both  —  whenever  he  feels  like  it.  ...  Gee,  but  I 
hate  him !  He's  a  cheap  sport,  anyhow.  He " 

"Oh,  hush,  please!"  Maggie  begged.  The  coarse 
manner  of  the  child  in  this  display  of  primitive  pas- 
sion shocked  her  immeasurably.  The  baby  whom  she 
had  loved  was  grown  into  this  precocious  creature  of 


ii8  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

evil  associations,  which  had  corrupted.  The  pathos  of 
the  change  from  the  innocence  she  had  cherished  so 
fondly  wrought  upon  her  sensitive  soul  until  she  could 
have  shrieked  at  the  monstrousness  of  it  all.  But  she 
calmed  herself  sufficiently  to  speak  gently: 

"Don't  think  of  that  dreadful  man  any  more,  dear. 
You're  at  home  with  me  now  —  in  your  own  home, 
Margie."  A  wave  of  reviving  love  welled  over  her, 
sweeping  away  her  momentary  distaste  for  the  child 
who  had  been  smirched  through  no  personal  fault. 
"Come  to  me,  Margie,"  she  cried.  Then,  when  the 
girl  had  obeyed,  she  took  her  niece  in  her  arms,  gazing 
deep  into  the  eyes  that  were  like  her  own,  and  more  like 
those  of  the  dead  brother.  "God !  it  is  as  if  Frank  were 
looking  at  me,"  she  said,  reverently.  She  kissed  the 
child  again  and  again.  "Margie!"  she  whispered. 
"My  little  Margie!"  Her  heart  leaped  with  joy,  for 
she  felt  the  soft  lips  return  the  pressure  of  her  own. 

Presently,  the  child  stirred  uneasily,  and  sat  upright 
on  Maggie's  knees. 

"Why  do  you  call  me  that?"  she  questioned,  with 
a  puzzled  frown.  "Margie?" 

"Why,"  came  the  surprised  reply  from  the  aunt, 
"because  it's  your  name  —  from  Margaret.'* 

But  the  niece  shook  her  head  in  'denial. 


PER  J.  H.  119 

"No,  it  isn't/'  she  declared,  with  conviction.  "My 
name's  Zaza." 

"Zaza!"  Maggie  repeated,  aghast.  "Why,  that's  a 
French  name  —  a  stage  name." 

"Well,  it's  what  they  call  me,"  the  girl  persisted. 
"I've  seen  the  play,  too.  Father  —  I  mean,  Mr.  Dar- 
kin,  you  know  —  he  said  the  woman  was  a  damned 
fool,  and  didn't  know  her  business." 

"Oh,  oh !"  Maggie  was  too  horrified  for  further 
speech  at  the  moment.  As  soon  as  she  had  mastered 
her  emotion,  she  spoke  with  grave  kindness.  "Don't 
think  of  the  things  that  man  has  said,  Margie.  No 
one  will  ever  call  you  by  the  name  again,  if  I  can  help 
it.  Your  name  is  really  Margaret.  Everyone  will 
call  you  that,  or  Margie."  She  regarded  the  child's 
frock  attentively.  "It's  too  old  for  her,"  she  mused 
aloud,  unconsciously,  "and  too  showy  —  it's  loud. 
And  that  picture  hat  of  hers  is  a  scream  —  a  chorus 
girl  could  make  a  hit  with  it  on  Broadway." 

"Father — Mr.  Darkin  —  said  it  would  make  'em 
sit  up  and  take  notice,"  Margie  exclaimed,  eagerly. 

Maggie  gave  a  startled  movement. 

"You  heard?"  she  questioned.  Then,  as  the  child 
nodded  assent:  "I  didn't  mean  you  to  hear;  but  it's 
just  as  well  perhaps.  You  must  dress  more  quietly 


120  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

now,  dear,  as  a  little  girl  like  you  should.  You  mustn't 
wear  flashy  things.  Your  dress  and  hat  make  you 
look  too  old  and  too  conspicuous." 

"Why,  I'm  seventeen,"  Margie  argued,  petulantly. 
It  was  apparent  that  she  did  not  favor  the  idea  of 
giving  up  her  gorgeous  raiment. 

"Seventeen!"  Maggie  exclaimed.  "Why,  you're 
only  fourteen  —  I  know,  dear,  because  you  lived  with 
me  when  you  were  a  baby,  and  I  loved  you  so  much 
that  I've  kept  track  always." 

The  girl  sprang  up,  and  stood  regarding  her  aunt 
with  huge  astonishment  in  her  eyes. 

"Is  that  straight,  Auntie  ?  .  .  .  Only  fourteen  — 
me !  Gee !  What  a  liar  my  —  that  Darkin  is.  Darn 
him !  One  of  his  friends  had  it  all  doped  out  to  marry 
me  this  fall,  in  about  a  month.  Mother  said  I  was 
too  young;  but  she  had  to  give  in  or  get  a  thrashing. 
But,  when  I  do  marry,  it's  going  to  be  a  rich  young 
fellow  I  met  at  a  moving-picture  show."  Maggie  had 
opened  her  lips  to  protest,  but  the  volatile  girl  thwarted 
her  purpose  by  an  abrupt  change  in  the  topic.  "Say, 
are  you  going  to  get  my  mother  off  ?" 

"I'll  do  what  I  can  for  her,"  Maggie  declared.  In 
her  content  over  possession  of  the  child,  she  found 


PER  J.  H.  121 

herself  much  more  charitably  disposed  toward  Ada 
Darkin. 

"Can't  you  get  the  salesgirl  to  say  that  mother 
didn't  do  it?"  Margie  suggested,  hopefully.  She 
came  close  to  her  aunt,  whose  neck  she  entwined  within 
her  slender  arms. 

But  Maggie  could  not  endure  the  caress  for  such  a 
plea.  She  rose  from  her  chair,  and  gently  freed  her- 
self from  the  child's  embrace.  She  was  partly  exas- 
perated, partly  amused,  partly  grieved.  It  was  borne 
in  on  her  consciousness  with  intensity  that  before  her 
lay  a  tremendous  task :  the  teaching  and  the  cleansing 
of  this  soiled  soul  now  entrusted  to  her  keeping. 
She  breathed  a  wordless  prayer  for  guidance  and  for 
help.  Then,  she  turned  with  a  bright  smile,  to  the 
child,  who  was  regarding  her  a  bit  sullenly : 

"Yes,  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  help  your  mother,"  she 
said,  cheerfully.  "And,  now,  I'm  going  to  see  you 
safe  in  bed." 

As  she  returned  through  the  passage  after  finishing 
her  ministrations  to  the  girl,  Maggie  observed  an 
envelope  lying  on  the  floor  by  the  hat-rack  where  she 
had  placed  her  muff,  and  she  realized  at  once  that 
this  was  the  one  she  had  brought  with  her  from  the 
office,  and  had  since  forgotten.  She  picked  it  up,  and, 


122  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

carrying  it  with  her  into  the  parlor,  seated  herself  by 
the  table,  opened  it,  and  read.  As  she  did  so,  the 
bloom  vanished  from  her  cheeks,  and  left  her  pallid. 
She  huddled  in  her  chair,  like  one  mortally  stricken. 
A  low  groan  broke  from  her  lips.  At  the  end,  she 
threw  her  arms  on  the  table,  buried  her  face  in  them, 
and  so  rested  motionless  for  hours,  in  the  quietude  of 
despair. 

This  was  the  letter,   which  bore  the  heading  of 
Holbrooke  and  Company  and  the  date  of  that  day: 

Miss  MARGARET  PEPPER: 

As  you  are  dissatisfied  with  the  manner  in 
which  the  business  of  Holbrooke  &  Co.  is  carried  on, 
we  think  it  desirable  to  fill  your  place  with  someone 
less  .critical  than  you  appear  to  be.  Herewith  your 
salary  till  Saturday  night. 

Yours  truly, 

HOLBROOKE  &  Co., 
Per  J.  H. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE    NEW    BUYER 

NEEDLESS  to  describe  in  detail  the  night  of  suffering 
endured  by  Maggie  Pepper.  Her  pangs  of  sorrow 
were  sharpened  by  the  fact  that  the  letter  of  dismissal 
had  been  signed  with  the  initials  of  the  young  man 
whom  she  had  sought  to  help,  toward  whom  she  had 
felt  herself  subtly  drawn.  This,  then,  had  been  the 
return  he  offered  for  the  kindness  she  had  shown. 
There  was  intolerable  torment  in  the  realization  of  an 
ingratitude  so  base.  She  had  talked  too  frankly:  it 
had  been  her  sole  indiscretion;  and  this  fault,  if  fault 
it  were,  had  been  induced  by  the  plausible  geniality 
with  which  he  approached  her.  For  an  error  on  her 
part  thus  insignificant,  he  chose  wantonly  to  deprive 
her  of  a  livelihood.  The  man  was  a  brute,  and  she 
hated  him! 

Another  fact  gave  edge  to  her  pain.  She  was  now 
become  the  protector  of  a  child,  with  all  responsibility 
for  its  maintenance  and  training.  She  had  accepted 

123 


124  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

the  duty  of  developing  a  soul  —  a  duty  most  grave. 
The  loss  of  position  threatened  failure  here,  prophe- 
sied catastrophe  for  another  beside  herself.  .  .  .  Such 
anguished  thoughts,  and  countless  more,  held  Maggie 
in  thrall  through  the  dragging  hours  of  the  night. 
Of  what  avail  to  pry  farther  into  the  supreme 
wretchedness  of  her  heart?  Sometimes,  the  scalpel  of 
the  analyst  lays  bare  over-much  in  the  body  of  dead 
hopes;  sometimes,  the  researches  of  the  psychologist 
border  close  on  sacrilege. 

In  the  morning,  Maggie  was  at  pains  to  use  such 
artifices  as  she  knew  to  conceal  the  traces  left  by  the 
night.  She  succeeded  so  well  that,  beyond  her  pale- 
ness, there  was  nothing  to  betray  the  tortures  she  had 
undergone.  She  chatted  gayly  with  Margie  during 
breakfast-time,  kissed  the  child,  bidding  her  remain 
within  the  apartment,  and  set  forth  for  Holbrooke  and 
Company's  store,  to  collect  a  few  belongings  left  in  her 
desk 

At  once,  on  reaching  the  stock-room,  she  seated 
herself  at  the  desk,  for  there  was  no  one  about  at  the 
time,  except  a  girl  sorting  goods  on  a  distant  counter. 
She  was  bending  low  over  a  bottom  drawer  when  she 
heard  a  voice  that  brought  her  erect  in  an  instant, 
with  a  quick  flush  of  anger  on  her  face  and  her 


THE  NEW  BUYER  125 

curving  lips  set  in  their  harshest  lines.  The  man  whom 
she  had  so  execrated  in  the  vigil  of  the  night  stood  at 
ease  before  her,  smiling  and  debonair,  and  his  voice, 
as  he  spoke,  was  cheery  and  friendly : 

"I've  been  thinking  over  what  you  said  to  me,  Miss 
Pepper,  and,  as  you  see,  I've  cut  out  all  that  London 
stuff,  discarded  the  laugh,  hung  away  my  cane  for 
another  sort  of  day,  stopped  smoking  during  office 
hours  —  beastly  bore,  that!  .  .  .  Hello!  that  wind-up 
sounds  Englishy.  I  must  watch  out.  .  .  .  Anyhow. 
it's  pretty  good  for  a  starter,  I  fancy  —  all  in  one 
day,  you  know."  He  beamed  down  on  her  expectantly, 
waiting  for  the  response  that  did  not  come.  But  the 
flushed  face  and  shining  eyes  deceived  him  for  the 
moment,  and  he  went  on,  without  any  suspicion  as  to 
her  mood :  "Oh,  yes,  I'm  a  full-fledged  business  man. 
Why,  I've  dictated  a  half-dozen  letters  since  I  saw 
you.  A  bit  busy,  eh  —  for  me  ?" 

"I  got  one  of  them,"  Maggie  said  evenly,  although 
her  voice  came  curiously  muffled.  Not  for  worlds 
would  she  have  let  him  know  the  tumult  that  raged 
within  her  breast.  First,  she  must  gain  command  of 
herself.  She  could  never  forgive  herself  if  she  were 
to  break  down  in  the  presence  of  this  man,  who  now, 
it  seemed,  was  pleased  to  flout  her  misery  by  his  pres- 


i26  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

ence.  Once  sure  of  herself,  she  would  show  him  the 
contempt  she  felt,  the  abhorrence,  in  a  manner  he 
would  never  forget.  "Yes,"  she  repeated,  in  a  tone 
that  was  listless  from  straining  against  the  leash  in 
which  she  held  it,  "I  received  one  of  your  letters." 

"Eh?  What's  that?"  The  air  of  surprise  assumed 
by  Joseph  was  so  convincing  that  Maggie  despised  him 
rather  more  than  before,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible, 
by  reason  of  his  hypocrisy.  It  was  clear  that  the 
young  proprietor  of  Holbrooke  and  Company  possessed 
a  vicious  streak  somewhere  in  his  character,  which 
led  him  to  delight  in  inflicting  wanton  cruelty.  Other- 
wise, how  could  he  stand  there  in  this  paltry  disguise 
of  innocence,  watching  the  futile  writhings  of  his 
victim  with  the  ferocious  complacency  of  a  beast  of 
prey?  "Tell  me  —  explain,  please,  Miss  Pepper,"  he 
urged ;  and  his  voice  was  suave,  courteously  pleading. 
Oh,  it  was  abominable!  His  malicious  pretense  of 
ignorance  stung  the  girl  beyond  endurance. 

"You  needn't  play  with  me  in  that  style,"  she  cried, 
harshly.  "You  know  perfectly  well  what  letter  I  refer 
to."  The  eyes  that  met  his  were  like  steel  in  their 
hardness,  though  the  red  lips  were  quivering  strangely. 
"I  mean  the  letter  you  sent  me  in  behalf  of  the  firm, 
the  one  signed  with  your  initials  —  the  letter  firing  me. 


THE  NEW  BUYER  127 

Oh,  of  course,  I  hurt  your  dignity  —  talking  the  way 
I  did  to  you  about  Holbrooke  and  Company.  But  it 
was  you  —  you  sneak !  —  that  led  me  on  to  it.  You're 
a  contemptible  cur,  Mr.  Joseph  Holbrooke  —  that's 
just  what  I  think  of  you.  I  —  tried  —  to  help  you ! 
I  thought  you  were  honest,  and  —  needed  work.  And 
this  is  what  I  get  for  it.  Oh,  I  hate  you!  Get  away 
from  me!"  As  she  finished  the  frenzied  outburst, 
Maggie  sprang  up  from  her  chair,  and  made  a  violent 
movement  of  repulsion  toward  Joseph,  who  was 
staring  at  her  with  a  face  as  white  as  hers  had  been, 
before  the  wrath  flooded  it  with  crimson.  Something 
in  his  bearing  seemed  to  press  down  on  the  girl's 
wildness,  soothing  it  little  by  little.  For  a  few  mo- 
ments, she  stood  gasping,  then,  slowly,  she  ceased 
trembling,  the  blood  ebbed  back  to  her  heart.  Her 
eyes  fell  from  his,  at  last;  her  face  drooped  to  her 
bosom.  In  another  moment,  she  had  hidden  it  in  her 
hands. 

Not  until  she  had  thus  returned  to  a  condition  of 
comparative  quietude  did  the  young  man  utter  a  word. 
Now,  however,  he  spoke  with  low  emphasis,  precisely 
to  the  point : 

"I  have  written  you  no  letter,  Miss  Pepper.  So  far 
as  my  knowledge  goes,  you  have  not  been  fired." 


128  MAGGIE  PEPPER 

"What's  the  use  of  —  lying  about  it?"  The  girl 
spoke  the  question  brokenly,  but  distinctly.  She  was 
still  desirous  of  striking  him  down  with  her  contempt, 
although  she  had  made  rather  a  failure  of  the  attempt 
thus  far. 

Joseph  preferred  to  ignore  the  unpleasant  form  in 
which  he  had  been  interrogated.  He  retained  his  air 
of  kindly  patience  in  the  face  of  trial.  One  of  his 
sources  of  pride,  as  is  the  case  with  most  men,  was  a 
cherished  belief  that  he  understood  women.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  he  was  especially  unlearned  in  wisdom 
of  the  sex  —  as,  again,  most  men  are.  In  this  instance, 
however,  by  good  luck  rather  than  by  scientific  reason- 
ing, he  was  so  fortunate  as  to  follow  the  method  best 
suited  to  the  emergency.  His  coolness  distilled  a  dew 
to  assuage  the  fevers  of  the  girl.  His  magnetism 
tranquilized  her  from  instant  to  instant  increasingly. 
So,  now,  when  he  addressed  her  again,  she  was  ready 
to  listen  with  understanding,  almost  with  an  open 
heart. 

"On  my  honor,  Miss  Pepper,"  he  said  firmly,  "I 
am  not  guilty  in  any  way.  Please,  believe  me.  Will 
you  not?" 

Again,  she  declared  to  herself  that  the  man  was  a 
brute:  and  in  the  saying  she  felt  that  it  was  she  who 


THE  NEW  BUYER  129 

lied.  She  voiced  a  final  protest  —  weakly,  without 
conviction : 

"Well,  anyhow,  you  told  Hargen  what  I  said,  and 
he " 

Joseph  interrupted,  sharply.  The  girl  was  lovely  in 
that  pose  of  dejection,  but  he  was  eager  to  gaze  again 
into  the  splendid  deeps  of  her  eyes.  It  was  time  that 
she  acknowledged  the  fact  of  her  error,  that  she 
returned  to  a  fair  degree  of  happiness.  It  was  shame- 
ful that  one  thus  beautiful  should  be  so  overwhelmed 
with  wretchedness  as  to  call  him  names  in  such  out- 
rageous fashion.  He  did  not  mind  it  for  himself,  but 
he  could  not  bear  it  that  she  should  be  in  a  state  of 
mind  to  give  way  so  completely.  ...  As  he  answered 
her  final  attack,  his  voice  was  severe: 

"I  have  never  mentioned  your  name  to  Mr.  Hargen, 
Miss  Pepper  —  never  in  my  life.  Whatever  he  has 
done,  he  did  on  his  own  authority,  without  consulting 
me  in  any  way,  without  my  knowledge.  For  the  rest, 
you  will  know  my  attitude  in  the  matter  very  shortly. 
.  .  .  Now,  permit  me,  please."  Joseph  took  the  limp 
fingers  of  the  girl's  right  hand,  which  she  yielded 
reluctantly,  and  led  her  to  her  chair.  "Just  sit  there 
for  a  bit,  and  we'll  make  an  end  of  this  matter,  right 


130  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

now."  When  she  was  seated,  he  went  quickly  to  the 
elevator-shaft,  and  rang  the  bell. 

Almost  immediately,  the  elevator  appeared.  Joseph 
addressed  the  attendant  in  a  voice  of  authority : 

"Tell  Mr.  Hargen  that  Mr.  Holbrooke  wishes  to 
see  him  in  the  stock-room,  at  once."  He  returned  to 
his  position  near  the  desk,  to  await  the  coming  of  the 
manager.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  in  the  interval. 
When  Mr.  Hargen  stepped  from  the  elevator,  he  was 
confronted  by  the  chief  owner  of  the  firm,  who 
regarded  him  for  a  few  moments  in  silence.  Joseph's 
face  wore  an  inscrutable  expression. 

"Mr.  Hargen,"  he  said  formally,  "I  have  decided 
to  use  my  prerogative  here  for  the  first,  but  not  the 
last,  time."  His  tones  were  as  pleasant  as  usual.  "I 
have  just  decided  that  the  position  of  buyer  here  shall 
go  to  Miss  Pepper.  .  .  .  And  another  thing:  Don't 
use  merely  your  initials  in  signing  letters.  Since  they 
are  the  same  as  mine,  the  result  is  confusing."  He 
silenced  the  elder  man  by  a  quick  gesture  of  command, 
and  turned  to  the  startled  girl,  into  whose  cheeks  the 
red  burned  as  by  magic.  "Good-day,  Miss  Pepper," 
he  said,  cordially.  "I  hope  that  you  will  like  your 
new  position." 


THE  NEW  BUYER  131 

To  himself,  he  added  a  sentence  that  could  hardly 
have  interested  anyone  save  himself : 

"By  Jove,  this  ought  to  tickle  the  ancestors!"  The 
satisfaction  of  having  nobly  accomplished  his  first  duty 
in  the  way  of  noblesse  oblige  so  pleased  him  that  he 
faced  the  furious  manager,  who  was  tugging  violently 
at  a  wisp  of  whisker,  with  a  delighted  grin : 

"And,  now,  Mr.  Hargen,"  he  concluded,  "we'll  go 
down  to  the  office,  and  have  a  talk." 

Left  alone,  Maggie  Pepper  drew  a  gasping  breath. 

"Oh,  bless  his  dear  heart !"  she  cried.  "And  —  oh, 
the  names  I  called  him!"  Then,  with  the  gray  eyes 
two  stars  and  the  joy  pulsing  hot  in  her  blood,  Maggie 
Pepper  dropped  her  head  on  her  hands,  and  wept 
herself  into  a  blessed  peacefulness. 


CHAPTER   XI 

MAGGIE  IN   THE   MAKING 

MAGGIE  PEPPER,  whose  fortunes  had  taken  the  de- 
sired turn  in  a  manner  so  unexpected,  undoubtedly 
deserved  the  success  thus  achieved.  She  had  been 
consistently  ambitious;  she  had  used  every  resource 
at  her  command  to  force  recognition  of  her  merit  from 
the  world  in  which  she  moved.  Yet,  it  had  seemed 
at  last  that  only  failure  was  to  be  her  portion;  then, 
by  the  interposition  of  a  new  personality  on  the  scene, 
victory  had  been  seized  for  her  out  of  the  clutch  of 
defeat.  In  her  first  realization  of  the  splendid  fact, 
Maggie  was  filled  with  glad  content.  She  felt  herself 
amply  repaid  for  all  the  wearisome  struggle  she  had 
carried  on  through  years  of  service. 

That  struggle,  indeed,  deserves  more  than  cursory 
mention,  for  it  had  been  exceptional.  There  are  many 
women  who  work  faithfully  enough  day  after  day 
through  a  lifetime,  but  there  are  few  who  bring  to 
their  toil  the  qualities  that  were  characteristic  of 

132 


MAGGIE  IN  THE  MAKING      133 

Maggie  Pepper.  Humdrum  as  the  routine  of  her  days 
might  have  seemed  to  a  careless  observer,  they  were 
dignified  by  the  purpose  that  animated  her  throughout 
and  the  intensity  of  the  pains  with  which  she  strove 
for  betterment. 

The  girl  came  of  ordinary  wholesome  American 
stock,  of  which,  however,  she  knew  absolutely  nothing 
beyond  her  father  and  mother.  These  parents  had  been 
kind  to  herself  and  her  brother,  Frank,  who  were  the 
only  children  to  survive  infancy.  The  father  had  been 
a  clerk  with  only  just  sufficient  pay  to  support  a  tiny 
flat,  but  there  had  been  no  actual  privation.  Maggie 
was  ready  to  enter  the  high  school  when  the  death  of 
her  mother  occurred.  The  effect  of  this  loss  on  the 
husband  was  deplorable.  His  sole  pleasure  had  been 
in  the  company  of  his  wife,  and  the  lack  of  it  left  him 
derelict.  He  suffered  mentally  until  the  strain  reacted 
on  his  body,  and  made  him  an  invalid.  The  expenses 
of  the  wife's  illness  and  death  had  consumed  all  the 
meager  savings.  Now,  when  the  father  became  in- 
capacitated for  work,  there  was  no  money  for  the 
necessities  of  life.  In  consequence,  the  children  were 
forced  to  seek  employment.  Thus,  at  the  age  of  fif- 
teen, Maggie  began  the  earning  of  a  livelihood.  For 
a  year,  the  father  dragged  on  a  wretched  existence, 


134  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

then  he  died,  and  the  two  children  were  left  with  only 
eacli  other. 

Yet,  from  the  very  outset,  Maggie  found  keen  satis- 
faction in  her  work.  Her  intelligence  was  far  beyond 
the  ordinary,  and  she  speedily  found  solace  in  the 
dreams  of  a  lively  ambition.  She  devoutly  thanked 
heaven  that  she  lived  in  a  generation  when  woman  is 
permitted  to  win  success  for  herself  in  business  life. 
She  regarded  those  who  undertook  household  drud- 
gery with  a  certain  scorn  that  added  to  her  content- 
ment over  her  own  manner  of  labor.  She  believed 
that  the  possibilities  of  success  were  offered  her  freely. 
It  only  required  that  she  should  deserve  advancement, 
and  it  would  be  given  her.  To  this  end,  she  zealously 
set  herself  to  the  task  of  improvement  in  every  way 
suggested  to  her  by  keen  powers  of  observation  and 
an  active  brain.  Primarily,  in  the  store,  she  performed 
her  duties  with  the  extreme  of  fidelity.  She  felt  that 
she  must  make  herself  known  as  absolutely  faithful 
there,  if  she  were  to  hope  for  preferment.  Without 
ostentation,  she  managed  so  skilfully  that  she  was  soon 
rewarded  by  advancement,  and  this  was  repeated  at 
intervals  through  the  years. 

Maggie's  ideas  of  development  were  not,  however, 
limited  to  the  direct  duties  of  her  employment.  Her 


MAGGIE  IN  THE  MAKING      135 

ambition  was  too  large  to  consider  only  the  petty 
progress  through  the  various  departments  of  Hol- 
brooke and  Company's  establishment.  She  was  minded 
to  become  a  person  of  real  importance  in  the  world. 
It  was  borne  in  on  her  that  to  this  end  she  should 
have  health  and  beauty  and  the  most  possible  of  train- 
ing in  mind  and  manners.  These  things  she  sought 
to  acquire  as  best  she  might  by  observation  of  the 
models  that  came  within  her  range  of  vision,  and  by 
reading  of  such  books  and  magazines  as  she  could 
afford.  She  lived  with  the  utmost  simplicity,  avoiding 
the  usual  recreations  of  those  in  her  own  walk  of  life, 
for  the  simple  reason  that  they  did  not  appeal  to  her. 
She  was  so  amiable  to  her  fellows  in  the  store  that 
this  attitude  of  aloofness  did  not  make  her  unpopular, 
although  it  provoked  a  mild  wonder.  And,  since  she 
was  not  out  merry-making  of  nights,  she  had  fime  for 
her  reading  and  for  those  many  personal  attentions  to 
which  she  came  presently. 

Under  any  circumstances,  Maggie  would  have  ap- 
peared as  a  handsome  girl,  but  it  was  due  to  her  own 
will  and  practise  that  she  became  radiantly  lovely  to 
such  an  extent  as  to  charm  the  eyes  of  Joseph  Hol- 
brooke or  any  other  man  at  the  first  glance.  She 
became  convinced  that  health  and  beauty,  if  not  always 


136  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

the  same  thing,  are  often  the  closest  of  relations,  and 
she  undertook  to  possess  both  in  her  own  person. 
She  avowedly  believed  it  a  part  of  her  duty  to  be  as 
beautiful  as  possible.  Instinct  taught  her  the  supreme 
value  of  loveliness  to  a  woman,  and  observation  con- 
firmed the  truth.  She  regarded  her  body  as  a  precious 
possession,  and  treated  it  with  infinite  care.  Her 
chief  extravagance  was  in  the  purchase  of  toilet  prepa- 
rations, which  she  learned  to  employ  with  the  art  of 
a  professional  beauty.  It  was  as  the  result  of  such 
ministrations,  combined  with  perfect  health  and  vigor 
due  to  hygienic  living,  that  her  skin  became  like  satin, 
and  of  a  coloring  exquisite  and  flawless ;  that  the  hair 
was  luxuriant  and  glossed  like  a  burnished  metal ;  that 
the  eyes  were  as  limpid  as  those  of  a  fawn;  that  her 
every  movement  and  posture  were  replete  with  grace. 
Over  and  beyond  such  details,  which  were  visible  to  the 
observer,  there  was  about  her  the  impalpable  mag- 
netism that  fascinates,  the  product  of  abounding 
vitality. 

It  was  inevitable  that  a  charm  such  as  hers  should 
have  brought  temptations  upon  her.  But  reading  had 
warned  her  of  certain  dangers;  shrewd  watching  of 
events  around  about  her  told  more.  She  had  seen 
girls  assailed  by  evil  in  innocent  guise,  had  seen  dis- 


MAGGIE  IN  THE  MAKING      137 

aster  come  upon  those  that  yielded.  Warm-hearted, 
generous,  eager  for  love,  she  might  easily  have  fallen 
a  victim  herself,  had  it  not  been  for  the  clear  brain 
that  pointed  the  path  toward  safety,  and  the  strong 
will  that  regulated  her  whole  life.  She  avoided  peril 
by  not  putting  herself  in  surroundings  where  strength 
might  be  sapped  to  weakness.  So,  she  went  on  her 
way,  worldly  wise,  yet  unspotted  of  the  world.  Her 
ambition  was  the  amulet  that  shielded  her  always. 
She  could  endure  patiently  through  these  years  of  lone- 
liness, because  thus  alone  was  possible  the  growth  she 
demanded  for  herself.  She  comforted  herself  with  the 
conviction  that  in  the  days  to  come  she  would  be 
repaid  in  overflowing  measure  for  all  that  she  had 
sacrificed. 

Only  two  affairs  of  the  heart  disturbed  the  tran- 
quillity with  which  Maggie  followed  the  course  on 
which  she  had  determined.  The  first  was  before  she 
had  reached  twenty,  and  it  was  a  girlish  romance  of 
that  foolish  sort  which  her  age  is  prone  to  indulge. 
Her  intelligence  was  not  in  the  least  concerned,  except 
to  disapprove  mildly.  It  was  simply  a  temporary 
visualization  of  her  earliest  ideal  concerning  manly 
beauty  in  the  person  of  one  of  the  floor-walkers.  For 
that  matter,  even  in  this  folly,  Maggie  was  exceptional, 


138  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

for  the  fellow  was  by  no  means  one  of  the  inane  sort 
that  usually  appeals  to  the  tender  miss.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  was  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  young  man,  with 
a  handsome,  intelligent  face,  and  an  air  of  reserved 
power  that  suggested  possibilities  beyond  his  present 
situation.  The  girl  worshipped  him  from  afar,  very 
humbly,  with  no  thought  whatsoever  of  any  intimacy 
between  them.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  floor-walker 
presently  disappeared  from  the  establishment  of  Hol- 
brooke and  Company,  and  the  girl's  cautious  inquiries 
could  elicit  no  information  concerning  what  had 
become  of  him.  She  mourned  over  him  quietly,  but 
without  any  passionate  sorrow,  dreamed  many  dreams 
of  the  great  things  he  was  destined  to  accomplish  in  the 
world,  and  soon  forgot  him  completely.  That  little 
romance  did  her  no  harm  at  all,  and  probably  no 
particular  good,  since  there  was  in  it  no  suffering  suffi- 
cient to  build  character. 

The  second  affair  of  the  heart  was  more  tense.  This 
was  with  a  broker's  clerk,  who  had  a  room  in  the  house 
where  she  was  boarding  at  the  time,  when  she  had  just 
passed  her  twenty-second  birthday.  The  young  man 
was  impressed  mightily  on  first  sight  of  Maggie,  and, 
being  a  person  of  energy  and  resource,  he  cultivated 
the  girl's  acquaintance  so  well  that  she  permitted  him 


MAGGIE  IN  THE  MAKING      139 

a  degree  of  companionship  heretofore  steadfastly 
refused  to  all  comers.  He  possessed  good  looks, 
cleverness,  and  a  disposition  well  calculated  to  attract 
any  woman.  His  prospects  were  excellent,  and  Mag- 
gie's intelligence  could  point  out  no  danger  from  an 
association  that  was  so  agreeable.  He  stirred  her 
heart  deeply,  and  would  have  won  it,  save  for  his  own 
wrong-doing.  He  came  late  to  an  engagement  with 
the  girl,  and  it  was  plain  that  he  had  been  drinking 
more  than  was  good  for  him.  Maggie  made  a  few 
concise  reproaches,  which  he  accepted  in  good  part, 
and  he  swore  solemnly  never  to  touch  liquor  again. 
Within  a  week,  he  appeared  before  her  for  the  second 
time  half-drunken.  The  girl  made  no  protest  whatever 
on  this  occasion.  But,  when  she  was  alone,  she  took 
counsel  with  common  sense,  while  her  heart  cried  out 
in  vain  against  the  decree.  She  reasoned  that  her 
lover  had  no  sense  of  honor,  since  he  could  thus  readily 
break  his  vow,  or  else  that  he  had  no  strength  of  will 
with  which  to  keep  it.  In  either  case,  she  could  feel 
only  contempt  for  a  character  so  weak.  She  had  no 
intention  of  entrusting  her  life's  happiness  to  one  of 
his  kind.  She  broke  off  the  intimacy  at  once,  despite 
the  pleadings  of  the  young  man,  who,  to  do  him 
justice,  loved  her  sincerely.  The  episode  made  a 


1 40  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

woman  of  the  girl.  She  had  cared  much  for  this 
lover,  and  it  wounded  her  sore  to  give  him  up.  The 
suffering  she  underwent  broadened  her,  deepened  her 
sympathies,  strengthened  her.  Out  of  the  ache  of  a 
new  loneliness  grew  a  finer  self-reliance.  She  realized 
suddenly  that  the  only  love  worth  while,  the  only  love 
to  fashion  a  life's  happiness,  must  be  that  of  the  whole 
being-,  where  head  and  heart  alike  give  fealty,  without 
doubt  or  reservation. 

The  chief  difficulty  in  the  way  of  Maggie's  ambition 
was  that  to  which  she  had  referred  in  her  conversation 
with  Hattie  Murphy,  when,  in  a  moment  of  petulance, 
she  bewailed  her  ignorance  of  ladylike  things.  As  her 
nature  expanded,  she  came  to  appreciate  more  and 
more  the  limitations  of  her  own  existence.  Her  up- 
bringing had  been  of  a  narrow  sort.  Her  parents, 
kindly  and  well-intentioned  as  they  were,  had  not 
been  of  the  sort  to  fashion  a  child's  manner 
along  lines  of  elegance.  They  had  been  plain 
persons,  not  gentlefolk.  As  her  reading  widened, 
she  grew  little  by  little  to  realize  the  differ- 
ence that  training  makes.  So,  since  she  was  not  born 
to  the  graces  of  deportment,  she  did  her  utmost  to 
acquire  them.  Unfortunately,  her  environment  was 
ill-suited  to  her  needs  in  this  regard.  Her  fellows  in 


MAGGIE  IN  THE  MAKING      141 

the  store  were  by  no  means  models  to  be  imitated. 
There  were,  to  be  sure,  the  customers,  whom  she  might 
study  and  copy.  Alas,  there  was  only  a  very  small 
proportion  of  these  who  were  adapted  to  serve  her 
purposes,  and  those  few,  by  reason  of  a  certain  incon- 
spicuousness,  were  likely  to  escape  observation.  She 
realized  fully,  too,  that  even  gentlewomen  were  not 
always  to  be  seen  at  their  best  whilst  on  a  shopping 
expedition.  Despite  these  drawbacks,  however,  Mag- 
gie used  her  best  endeavors,  and  gathered  stores  of 
information,  very  slowly,  here  a  little,  there  a  little, 
with  unfaltering  patience  and  industry. 

She  gained  much,  of  course,  from  her  reading,  and, 
indeed,  was  fairly  competent  to  edit  the  etiquette 
department  of  a  woman's  magazine  out  of  a  wisdom 
almost  wholly  theoretical,  as  yet  quite  unpractised  on 
account  of  the  exigencies  of  her  surroundings.  She 
thought  that  the  pictures  of  high  life  displayed  in 
some  of  the  dramas  might  assist  her  toward  knowl- 
edge, and  she  was  assiduous  in  attendance  on  plays  of 
the  requisite  character.  Here,  too,  however,  she  was 
confronted  by  her  inability  to  determine  just  what 
was  right  and  just  what  was  wrong  in  the  manners 
presented  by  actors  and  actresses.  Out  of  her  own 
wisdom,  she  was  able  to  detect  certain  inelegancies, 


142  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

crudities,  absurdities,  in  the  portrayal  of  gentility. 
Rendered  suspicious,  she  guessed  more. 

Notwithstanding  all  the  obstacles  that  opposed  her 
progress,  notwithstanding,  too,  the  dissatisfaction  she 
experienced  concerning  her  advance,  Maggie  accom- 
plished wonders  in  reality.  Her  habit  of  life  and 
thought  itself  induced  a  refinement  that  reacted  through 
her  bearing  at  all  times.  Whether  born  with  a  strain 
of  blue  blood,  or  whether  it  was  solely  the  result  of  her 
system  of  life,  the  girl  had  come  into  possession  of  an 
instinct  that  many  ladies  might  well  have  envied. 
Though  she  was  totally  unaware  of  it  herself,  an  air 
of  breeding  went  with  her  as  an  aura.  Those  who 
came  into  association  with  her  felt  the  subtle  influence 
instantly.  There  was  about  her  ordinarily  a  poise 
that  was  worth  any  quantity  of  the  merely  formal 
attributes  of  good-breeding. 

Finally,  there  was  in  her  at  its  highest  the  American 
facility  for  adaptation  and  assimilation.  The  women 
of  other  countries  follow  the  conventions  come  down 
to  them  from  preceding  generations.  A  certain  con- 
servatism is  born  in  them,  of  the  blood ;  it  is  common 
to  peasant  and  princess  alike.  The  American  woman 
is  restrained  by  no  such  hamper.  Rather,  the  instinct 
for  change  is  born  in  her,  the  craving  for  new  and 
better  expression.  It  is  a  part  of  the  general  character 


MAGGIE  IN  THE  MAKING      143 

of  the  nation,  with  its  offer  of  great  possibilities  for 
advancement  to  each  and  all.  In  other  lands,  one  may 
guess  the  social  status  of  a  woman  by  her  appearance, 
with  no  likelihood  of  error.  Here,  the  shopgirl  may 
ape  the  duchess,  and  do  it  to  perfection.  It  is  most 
hazardous  to  assert  the  social  position  of  any  woman 
merely  from  the  way  she  is  garbed  and  bears  herself. 
Speech  offers  a  safer  guide,  but  even  it  may  deceive. 
And  Maggie  possessed  the  quality  of  assimilation  to  a 
marvelous  extent,  although  of  this,  too,  she  was  quite 
ignorant,  at  least  so  far  as  understanding  its  effect  on 
her  appearance  and  manner.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she 
dressed  herself  modishly,  irreproachably.  Her  means 
permitted  no  extravagance,  so  she  avoided  the  danger 
of  over-dressing.  She  wore  her  clothes  as  clothes 
should  be  worn,  with  a  serene  consciousness  that  she 
was  fittingly  clad,  and  no  concern  beyond  that  fact, 
once  the  costume  was  completed.  In  her  carriage,  as 
well,  she  reflected  the  dignity  that  was  the  due  of  her 
high  ambition. 

Luckily,  Maggie  Pepper  enjoyed  a  nature  that  could 
not  be  spoiled  by  imposing  upon  it  the  superficial 
graces.  She  was  honest,  genuine,  buoyant,  and  blest 
with  a  joyous  sense  of  humor  that  carried  her  trium- 
phantly through  many  an  hour  of  weariness.  She  was 
broad  in  her  interests,  and  instinctively  friendly  toward 


144  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

all  the  world.  These  qualities  saved  her  from  a  narrow 
selfishness  that  otherwise  might  easily  have  been 
fostered  by  her  persistent  ambition.  In  like  fashion, 
it  prevented  her  from  becoming  in  any  way  priggish  as 
she  improved  herself  within  and  without  by  constant 
care.  The  spontaneous  charm  that  was  her  birthright 
was  never  diminished  by  the  graces  she  adopted  for 
her  own.  She  was  beautiful  and  good  and  astonish- 
ingly elegant,  but  she  was  always,  too,  a  lively,  high- 
spirited  girl,  rather  emotional  at  times,  tempestuous 
on  occasion.  She  had  none  of  the  tiresomeness  of 
perfection,  but  was  very  human,  and  very  lovable. 

It  was  inevitable,  then,  that  Joseph  Holbrooke 
should  at  once  have  influenced  Maggie  profoundly. 
He  was  the  first  man  with  whom  she  had  ever  spoken 
who  was  of  the  superior  class  toward  which  she  aspired 
so  earnestly.  His  manner  toward  her  had  been  some- 
thing that  she  had  imagined  dimly  in  her  dreaming, 
but  had  never  experienced  in  real  life.  The  ease  in  his 
bearing,  too,  was  the  sure  evidence  that  it  was  wholly 
a  matter  of  nature,  due  to  the  circumstances  of  his  life, 
without  any  trace  of  self-consciousness.  In  the  other 
sex,  he  presented  precisely  the  ideal  toward  which  she 
had  so  long  striven  for  herself.  The  fact  in- 
stantly placed  her  en  rapport  with  Joseph,  in  a 
manner  that  was  essentially  different  from  any  rela- 


MAGGIE  IN  THE  MAKING      145 

tionship  she  had  hitherto  known.  The  effect  was 
intensified  by  the  young  gentleman's  attractive 
face  and  the  geniality  with  which  he  had  con- 
ducted himself  during  their  first  interview.  Then 
had  come  the  interval  where  all  this  charm  of  his 
personality  did  but  serve  to  emphasize  her  distress 
over  the  ungenerousness  of  his  action  in  regard  to 
her,  as  she  had  mistakenly  viewed  the  situation.  Now, 
since  she  had  learned  of  her  error,  she  was  moved  to 
esteem  him  the  more  by  reason  of  her  former  injustice. 
She  had  deserved  the  gratification  of  her  ambition,  but 
merit  had  not  sufficed  to  attain  it.  On  the  contrary, 
she  had  been  harshly  denied  the  advancement  she 
desired.  It  was  only  the  interposition  of  this  newcomer 
into  her  life  that  had  given  her  success.  She  was  fully 
aware  that  her  position  as  buyer  came  as  the  gift  of 
Joseph  Holbrooke.  She  had  no  scruple  in  accepting 
it  as  such.  Indeed,  she  felt  that,  whatever  the  method 
of  its  attainment,  the  place  was  no  more  than  her  due. 
She  felt,  however,  that  all  her  gratitude  should  go  to 
him  who  had  given  her  the  victory.  It  seemed  to  her 
now  that  there  could  no  longer  be  any  bitterness  in 
life.  She  was,  in  truth,  inordinately  happy  over  the 
course  of  events,  and,  when  her  musings  turned,  as 
they  constantly  did,  on  Joseph,  they  were  very,  very 
tender. 


CHAPTER  XII 

SCANDAL 

THE  Marquis  de  Brensac  sighed  wistfully  as  he  fin- 
ished reading  one  of  Zorzi's  poems  in  the  Provencal, 
and  laid  the  book  aside.  Somehow,  to-day,  he  was 
weary  of  the  dead  and  gone  folk.  For  the  moment, 
he  was  regretful  that  he  was  not  concerned  more 
directly  with  the  world  of  living  men  and  women.  He 
was  thinking  just  then  that  he  would  be  glad  to  influ- 
ence, were  it  ever  so  humbly,  the  lives  of  his  fellows. 
He  sought  to  put  the  idea  from  him,  but  it  persisted. 
He  was  possessed  of  a  yearning,  so  to  speak,  for 
having  a  ringer  in  the  pie  of  contemporaneous  destiny 
—  though  he  would  have  been  shocked,  indeed,  by 
putting  the  fact  thus  baldly. 

How  great  must  have  been  the  joy  of  the  marquis 
could  he  have  looked  in  at  a  smart  restaurant  on  Fifth 
Avenue,  New  York,  one  spring  noontime,  and  have 
there  beheld  Joseph  Holbrooke  and  Maggie  Pepper 
engaged  in  agreeable  conversation  over  an  excellently 
devised  luncheon !  That  is  to  say,  could  he  have  seen 

146 


SCANDAL  147 

with  full  understanding  of  the  truth  that  their  happi- 
ness in  this  hour,  and  in  many  others,  was  of  his  own 
accomplishment,  wrought  by  him  as  the  agent  of 
destiny,  with  Joseph  as  the  medium. 

In  the  three  months  since  Maggie  had  sobbed  herself 
into  blissful  tranquillity,  much  of  prime  importance 
had  occurred  to  herself,  to  Joseph  and  to  Holbrooke 
and  Company  —  also,  to  many  another,  more  or  less 
directly  allied  with  these  principals.  Naturally  enough, 
immediately  after  Joseph's  drastic  method  of  excul- 
pating himself  in  the  eyes  of  the  girl,  the  relations  of 
the  two  became  of  the  friendliest.  Maggie  was  pro- 
foundly grateful  to  the  man  who  had  given  her  the 
ambition  of  her  life  and  had  assured  the  well-being  of 
the  child  dependent  on  her.  Her  instinctive  liking  for 
him  was  now  strengthened  by  one  of  the  chief  impulses 
of  the  heart.  As  to  Joseph,  he  was  first  of  all  attracted 
by  the  beauty  of  this  employee,  which  never  failed  to 
delight  his  eyes.  Afterward,  he  regarded  her  with 
that  feeling  of  proprietary  satisfaction  with  which  we 
repay  ourselves  for  every  service  rendered  another. 
She  was,  in  reality,  the  creature  of  his  making,  and  he 
exulted  in  the  sense  of  creatorship,  although  he  would 
have  been  extremely  indignant  had  some  analytical 
theorist  explained  the  matter  to  him  in  this  fashion. 
Then,  finally,  he  was  enthralled  by  the  personality  of 


148  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

the  girl  as  a  whole.  It  was  not  merely  the  beauty  of 
her  that  drew  him.  After  a  little,  this  was  the  least  of 
her  allurement,  though  it  was  ever  present  and  ever 
strong.  As  the  intimacy  between  them  progressed, 
the  young  man  found  her  mind  even  more  fascinating 
to  him  than  was  her  physical  self.  She  pleased  him 
equally  well  in  her  moods  of  merriment  and  in  her 
periods  of  seriousness  over  business  concerns. 

It  was  business,  in  fact,  that  fashioned  the  Platonic 
mask  which  Joseph  and  Maggie  wore.  It  was  business 
that  justified  Maggie  in  encouraging  the  proprietor  of 
Holbrooke  and  Company  to  seek  her  society  assidu- 
ously; it  was  business  that  drove  Joseph  to  constant 
consultations  with  his  buyer,  who  had  more  brains  in 
her  little  finger  than  had  all  the  rest  of  the  establish- 
ment, including  its  head,  as  he  cheerfully  told  himself 
in  endless  repetitions.  For  that  matter,  business 
appeared  almost  to  justify  the  Platonic  just  this  once. 
.  .  .  Unquestionably,  Joseph  was  right  as  to  his 
buyer's  brains. 

Maggie,  at  the  proprietors  solicitation,  explained 
in  full  her  ideas  as  to  the  manner  in  which  the  business 
should  be  conducted.  Joseph,  ever  mindful  of  his 
duties  to  the  blood,  treasured  her  every  suggestion  in 
detail,  and  put  it  in  execution  forthwith.  Hargen  pro- 
tested and  fumed,  but  in  vain.  He  raged  against  every 


SCANDAL  149 

innovation,  but  the  innovations  came  and  stayed. 
The  establishment  was  metamorphosed,  and  success 
crowned  change.  The  store  was  completely  restocked, 
and  with  consummate  skill.  Soon,  the  fact  that  any- 
thing issued  from  Holbrooke  and  Company  gave  it  a 
cachet  of  smartness.  The  saleswomen  became  beauties ; 
the  models  became  miracles  of  loveliness.  All  the 
devices  by  which  the  proffer  of  something  for  nothing 
wheedles  money  from  folk  were  speedily  installed  in 
their  most  enticing  guise.  There  were  free  collations 
of  the  daintest  —  the  principle  of  the  bar-room  lunch 
adapted  and  sublimated ;  there  were  art  galleries ;  there 
were  concerts;  there  were  other  things  in  luxurious 
profusion;  and  collations,  galleries,  concerts  and  other 
things  were  of  the  very  best.  All  were  devised  and 
elaborated  by  the  shrewd  and  ingenious  Maggie,  ac- 
cepted and  made  real  by  the  receptive  and  industrious 
Joseph.  Crowds  swarmed  in  the  aisles  of  Holbrooke 
and  Company,  and  the  fame  of  the  young  proprietor 
went  abroad  in  the  land.  He  was  christened  the 
Napoleon  of  Commerce.  .  .  .  And,  being  an  honest 
gentleman,  and,  too,  desirous  of  any  excuse  for  seeking 
her  company,  Joseph,  when  he  first  learned  of  this  new 
designation,  sought  Maggie  out  and  thanked  her  very 
humbly  for  the  glory  she  had  brought  to  him  —  and  to 
his  blood. 


150  'MAGGIE   PEPPER 

But  the  most  golden  cloud  has  its  black  lining.  In 
the  case  of  Holbrooke  and  Company,  this  was  scandal. 
Despite  the  excellence  of  the  business  mask,  gossip 
sought  to  tear  it  from  the  friendship  of  the  two  young 
persons,  sure  that  something  meretricious  lay  hidden 
beneath.  They  were  seen  together  almost  constantly, 
and  the  nature  of  the  world  is  such  that  when  a  per- 
sonable young  man  and  a  pretty  woman  spend  the  bulk 
of  their  time  in  each  other's  company  it  is  presumed 
they  are  in  love.  Else,  why  should  they  be  together 
so  often?  Business!  Pooh!  At  their  age,  business 
may  account  for  a  certain  amount  of  intimacy:  only 
love  can  explain  it  all. 

So,  the  tongue  of  scandal  wagged  fast  and  faster. 
It  was  heard  throughout  the  departments  of  Holbrooke 
and  Company;  it  was  heard  in  the  boudoirs  and  clubs 
of  society.  The  only  place,  in  short,  where  it  was  not 
heard  was  in  the  ears  of  the  two  most  nearly  con- 
cerned, as  is  usually  the  case. 

Joseph,  if  he  had  been  a  person  of  keener  observa- 
tion and  more  deductive  reasoning,  might  have 
suspected  something  wrong  from  the  manner  of  his 
betrothed,  who  had  developed  a  capriciousness  in  her 
treatment  of  him  that  was  significant  of  something, 
as  he  himself  ruefully  admitted  with  much  head-shak- 
ing. Beyond  this,  he  did  not  go.  Ethel,  by  turns, 


SCANDAL  151 

tried  the  blandishments  of  her  loveliness  and  the  stings 
of  her  temper  in  vain  to  provoke  him  into  an  investi- 
gation. He  admired  her  beauty,  but  it  did  not  arouse 
his  passion ;  he  withstood  her  flurries  of  anger  stolidly : 
the  sole  effect  of  them  was  to  make  him  wonder  dole- 
fully as  to  what  her  behavior  as  a  wife  would  be.  That 
he  was  deeply  in  love  with  his  fiance,  he  did  not  doubt. 
He  had  formed  the  habit  before  he  met  Maggie,  and, 
since,  as  has  been  said,  he  was  by  no  means  ^iven  to 
introspection,  it  never  occurred  to  him  to  question  the 
state  of  his  heart.  The  fact  that  he  suffered  boredom, 
or  worse,  in  the  company  of  Ethel,  while  he  always 
took  delight  in  that  of  Maggie,  never  attracted  his 
attention  as  of  vital  significance.  .  .  .  His  stupidity 
was  extraordinary :  it  is  more  extraordinary  that  there 
are  so  many  men  like  that. 

For  Maggie,  with  her  clear  perceptive  powers,  there 
would  have  been  less  excuse,  but  for  the  extenuating 
circumstances  that  clouded  judgment.  In  the  first 
place,  her  gratitude  led  her  to  feel  subject  always  to 
Joseph's  wishes;  in  the  second  place,  the  business 
seemed  to  require  their  association  frequently;  in  the 
third  place,  she  knew  that  Joseph  could  not  fall  a 
victim  to  her  charms,  for  he  was  already  engaged  to 
the  loveliest  girl  in  the  world,  whom  he  loved  to  dis- 
traction :  he  had  told  her  so  himself,  repeatedly. 


152  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

There  was,  however,  still  another  excuse  for  Maggie 
—  something  that  made  what  should  have  been  her  bed 
of  rose-leaves  one  of  thorns. 

This  was  an  outgrowth  of  her  love  for  the  child, 
Margie.  With  the  increased  income  of  her  position  as 
buyer,  she  was  able  to  send  the  child  to  a  select  school, 
where  the  child  was  taught  the  niceties  of  breeding  as 
well  as  things  of  common  learning.  Maggie  frankly 
reveled  over  her  niece's  progress  in  acquiring  a  lady- 
like behavior  for  which  she  herself  had  mourned.  She 
confided  her  own  need  to  Margie,  was  duly  instructed 
in  all  the  elegancies  insisted  on  by  the  mistress  of  the 
school.  With  information  eked  out  from  a  number  of 
books  on  etiquette  and  from  close  observation  in  res- 
taurants of  the  best  class,  which  she  now  frequented, 
Maggie  made  marvelous  strides  in  her  advance  toward 
the  bearing  of  a  Vere  De  Vere.  In  addition,  she  kept 
herself  exactly  informed  of  the  studies  followed  by  the 
girl,  purchased  the  necessary  books,  and  evening  after 
evening  assimilated  their  contents.  Already,  within 
the  quarter  of  a  year,  she  had  broadened  her  mind 
amazingly,  for  her  natural  intelligence  found  deep 
pleasure  in  the  new  exercise.  Her  improved  manner 
of  speech  was  a  never-failing  source  of  wonder  to  the 
adoring  Hattie  Murphy.  Fortunately,  Maggie's  char- 
acter was  of  a  sort  to  take  on  such  veneer  without  ob- 


SCANDAL  153 

souring  or  tainting  the  pure  gold  of  the  woman 
beneath. 

The  shadow  that  loomed  darkly  back  of  this  sun- 
shiny life  was  Jack  Darkin.  Maggie  had,  according 
to  her  promise  to  the  child,  used  such  means  as  she 
could  command,  and  had  finally,  with  much  difficulty, 
secured  the  release  of  Ada  from  prison  on  parole. 
From  his  wife,  Darkin  learned  the  whereabouts  of  the 
child,  and  at  once  instituted  a  system  of  blackmail. 
Fearful  lest  he  carry  out  his  threats  and  take  Margie 
from  her,  Maggie  endured  his  extortion.  With  a 
sensitive  woman's  dread  of  legal  procedure,  she  was 
awed  by  his  assertion  that  he  would  seize  the  child 
through  process  of  law,  unless  she  complied  with  his 
demands.  So,  she  paid  him  money  again  and  again, 
all  that  she  could  afford  —  and  more.  In  the  end, 
indeed,  his  requirements,  grown  too  rapacious  by 
success,  were  beyond  her  means  to  satisfy.  She  was 
even  forced  to  apply  to  Hargen  for  a  thousand  dollars 
advance  on  her  salary,  which  was  refused.  ...  It 
was  this  trouble,  caused  by  Darkin's  exactions,  that 
blinded  her  as  to  the  impropriety  of  her  intercourse 
with  Joseph. 

It  was  Mrs.  Thatcher,  who,  out  of  the  kindness  of 
her  heart,  at  last  undertook  the  task  of  opening 
Maggie's  eyes. 


154  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

Yet,  the  detective  hesitated  when  she  stood  looking 
down  on  the  smiling  face  that  was  lifted  in  radiant 
greeting  from  the  buyer's  desk.  An  elusive  grace  and 
dignity,  newly  come  to  the  girl  whom  she  had  known 
so  long,  gave  the  woman  pause.  She  felt,  somehow, 
as  if  she  had  no  right  to  intrude  on  the  privacy  of 
this  person.  She  was  firmly  convinced  concerning  the 
integrity  of  her  purpose,  and,  therefore,  this  sudden 
reluctance  impressed  her  the  more.  She  alluded  to  it 
in  a  round-about  fashion. 

"Ada  Darkin  is  watching  Margie,"  she  said,  after 
a  few  friendly  phrases  had  been  exchanged.  "But  I 
don't  think  she  means  any  harm.  It's  surely  wonderful 
what  you've  done  for  that  child,  Maggie.  She  don't 
seem  like  the  same  person,  at  all.  She's  so  pretty  and 
well-behaved !  And,  gracious !  Maggie,  you,  too,  don't 
seem  like  the  same  woman,  some  way.  What's  come 
over  you,  all  of  a  sudden?" 

The  dimple  fluttered  in  the  girl's  cheek,  and  the 
warm  deeps  of  the  eyes  shone  more  brilliantly;  the 
red  bow  of  her  lips  bent  happily  as  it  parted  for  speech. 

"It's  study  and  education  that  have  done  it,"  she 
confessed,  without  hesitation,  proud  in  her  humility. 
"Before,  I  didn't  know  anything  except  business :  now, 
I'm  beginning  to  learn  other  things  —  oh,  just  the 
littlest  bit !  but  I'm  beginning.  For  three  months  now, 


SCANDAL  155 

Margie  and  I  have  been  working  mighty  hard  to 
improve  ourselves  in  grammar  and  other  things.  A 
body  can  learn  a  lot  in  three  months  —  and  learn  what 
a  sight  more  there  is  to  come  after." 

"You're  a  wonder,  Maggie  Pepper,"  the  detective 
declared,  admiringly.  "No,  you're  not  the  same 
woman  —  and  you've  done  it  all  yourself,  too.  I  just 
love  you  for  that,  Maggie.  But  it's  because  I  do  love 
you,  my  dear,  that  I  can't  stand  by  without  saying  a 
word.  It's  my  duty  to  speak  right  up  in  meeting, 
and  I'm  going  to."  She  paused,  and  the  whimsical 
smile  vanished  as  she  stared  gravely  into  the  girl's 
startled  face.  "I  mean  this,"  she  went  on,  her  voice 
harsh  from  the  effort  it  cost  to  speak  the  thing  that 
must  wound  her  friend.  "Mr.  Holbrooke  has  got  to 
stop  queering  your  reputation.  You  know  the  repu- 
tation he  earned  while  he  was  over  in  Europe.  Well, 
everybody  is  talking  about  the  attention  he  pays  you. 
It's  in  business,  and  it's  outside.  Why,  when  any  of 
the  wholesale  men,  even,  asks  him  a  question,  he  refers 
them  to  you.  Do  you  know  the  joke  that's  all  over 
the  city?  They  call  this  establishment  the  Pepper 
Pot." 

Maggie's  eyes  had  fallen  in  confusion.  Of  a  sudden, 
a  great  embarrassment  swept  over  her,  engulfing  her 
in  its  flood.  A  shame,  unlike  any  she  had  ever  known, 


156  MAGGIE  PEPPER 

tingled  in  every  drop  of  her  blood.  She  could  not 
understand  the  emotion.  She  did  not  realize  that,  in 
the  instant,  the  veil  shrouding  the  dearest  secret  of 
her  heart  —  a  secret  so  subtly  hidden  that  it  was  not 
understood  even  by  herself  —  had  been  ruthlessly  torn 
aside.  For  the  time,  she  was  too  peturbed  to  gaze 
within,  but  afterward,  soon,  she  would  turn  her  eyes 
to  look  on  the  holy  place  of  her  own  being,  and  there, 
through  the  rent,  she  would  behold  the  glory  and  the 
sorrow  of  a  woman,  her  love  for  a  man.  Now,  how- 
ever, she  knew  no  more  than  that  she  was  shocked, 
hurt,  angry,  ashamed  beyond  any  reason. 

"He  —  he  has  great  confidence  in  my  judgment," 
she  faltered,  without  raising  her  eyes. 

"No  doubt  he  has,"  Mrs.  Thatcher  agreed,  dryly; 
"so  much,  in  fact,  that  Miss  Hargen  is  having  you 
watched.  I  ought  not  to  betray  professional  confi- 
dences, but  I'm  making  an  exception  in  your  behalf. 
Miss  Ethel  came  to  me,  and  asked  me  to  take  the  job. 
I  declined,  because  I'm  your  friend.  But  somebody 
else  has  that  same  job,  right  now." 

Maggie  shrank,  with  a  gesture  of  repulsion.  The 
idea  sickened  her. 

"Watched !"  she  gasped.    "As  if  I  were !" 

"Exactly !"  Mrs.  Thatcher  remarked  with  emphasis, 
to  turn  the  iron  in  the  wound.  "It's  best  that  you 


SCANDAL  157 

should  be  on  your  guard.  I  read  some  poetry  once  in 
a  book,  about  a  woman  scorned  raising  hell.  I've  an 
idea  from  the  way  she  looked  and  acted,  when  she 
was  talking  to  me,  that  Ethel  Hargen  thinks  she's  been 
scorned,  and  that  you're  the  cause  of  it ;  and  she's  going 
to  live  up  to  schedule  just  the  way  the  poetry  man 
suggested.  My  dear,  she's  so  jealous  you  could  scrape 
the  green  off  her.  She  let  out  by  mistake  that  she 
wants  the  wedding  to  come  off  right  away;  but  he 
won't  stand  for  it — 'Says  he's  too  busy  for  honey- 
mooning. Nice  way  for  a  lover  to  talk,  I  must  say. 
.  .  .  And  she  thinks  —  and  I'm  not  saying  she's 
wrong  —  that  you're  the  cause  of  it."  The  detective, 
casting  a  long,  regretful  look  down  on  the  face  which 
had  whitened  perceptibly,  felt  that  she  had  done  her 
disagreeable  duty  effectively.  "Well,  I've  got  to  get 
busy.  So-long,  Maggie,"  she  said,  and,  with  a  sigh, 
turned  away,  leaving  the  girl  bowed  in  a  stricken 
silence. 


CHAPTER   XIII 
JAKE'S  GIFT 

DURING  a  week,  Maggie  carried  her  new  knowledge 
as  to  the  scandal  that  had  touched  her  relations  with 
Joseph,  and  kept  it  a  secret  for  herself  alone.  Before 
the  time  was  half-gone,  she  had  become  aware,  too, 
of  the  reason  for  the  shame  that  had  so  startled  her 
at  the  time  when  Mrs.  Thatcher  made  the  revelation. 
She  knew  now  that  she  loved  the  man  with  whom 
gossip  had  already  linked  her  name,  and  the  fact  gave 
her  mingled  bliss  and  torment.  It  was  a  dreadful 
thing  that  she  should  have  given  her  heart  unasked, 
and  that,  too,  to  one  already  plighted.  The  only 
expiation  she  could  make  was  to  keep  the  truth  for- 
ever locked  away  in  her  own  breast  from  all  the  world, 
most  of  all  from  him  who  had  aroused  for  himself 
all  the  rich  tenderness  of  her  nature.  It  was  neces- 
sary, however,  in  order  to  quiet  the  scandal,  that  she 
should  have  some  sort  of  explanation  with  Joseph,  and 
thus  bring  to  an  end  the  intimacy  that  had  caused 
comment.  To  do  this  without  betraying  the  true  state 


JAKE'S  GIFT  159 

of  her  feeling's  would,  she  was  certain,  be  a  task  to 
strain  all  her  powers.  Nevertheless,  she  nerved  herself 
for  the  ordeal,  and,  at  last,  after  seven  days  of  vacil- 
lating, brought  herself  to  the  acting  point. 

Yet,  on  the  day  she  had  privately  set  for  the  per- 
formance of  her  duty,  she  found  herself  weakly  hesi- 
tating. She  wilfully  let  slip  two  opportunities  in  the 
morning,  when  she  chanced  to  be  alone  with  the 
proprietor.  She  guessed,  however,  that  he  would 
appear  again  soon,  to  ask  for  her  company  at  luncheon, 
and  she  was  firm  in  her  determination  to  introduce  the 
topic  at  that  time.  In  spite  of  her  brave  resolution, 
she  was  relieved  when  the  next  visitor  proved  to  be 
Jake  Rothschild.  For  the  first  time  since  she  had 
known  the  jobber,  she  was  genuinely  glad  to  see  him. 
She  observed  with  much  amusement  that  the  newcomer 
was  appareled  with  even  more,  than  his  accustomed 
gorgeousness,  and,  for  the  diversion  it  might  afford 
her  thoughts,  she  straightway  showed  an  interest. 

"What  are  you  made  up  for,  Jake?"  she  inquired, 
with  a  smile  so  radiant  that  the  surprised  jobber  fairly 
blinked. 

"Well,"  he  rejoined  unctuously,  "when  a  gentleman 
has  particular  business  with  a  lady,  he  wants  to  look 
like  something.  What?" 


160  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"You  do,  Jake  —  oh,  yes,  you  certainly  do !"  Maggie 
admitted ;  and  her  voice  rippled  into  laughter. 

"Eh?  Like  what?"  Jake  inquired,  vastly  gratified 
by  the  attention  he  was  attracting;  for  Hattie,  too, 
was  regarding  him  with  manifest  wonder. 

"I  wouldn't  dare  to  tell  you,"  Maggie  answered, 
gravely.  "In  the  book  on  etiquette,  it  says  that  a  lady 
must  not  use  strong  language." 

Hattie  giggled  hysterically,  as  she  scrutinized  the 
color  scheme  ingeniously  put  together  by  Mr.  Roth- 
schild, in  contravention  of  all  canons  ever  devised. 
But  the  clamorously  clad  gentleman  was  puzzled.  He 
contented  himself  with  smoothing  fondly  the  gloves 
which  he  carried  in  his  hand. 

"A  dollar  and  a  quarter!"  he  ejaculated,  proudly. 
"But  never  mind  now,"  he  went  on,  approaching  the 
desk  closely,  and  bending  down  to  make  sure  that 
Hattie  should  not  overhear.  "I  have  business  with 
you  — •  business  which  is  a  pleasure,  and  pleasure  comes 
high  in  this  world."  He  leaned  even  lower,  while 
Maggie  regarded  his  manoeuvering  in  perplexity,  and 
from  his  pocket  drew  forth  a  small  parcel,  wrapped 
in  tissue  paper.  "Hush !"  he  continued,  with  a  cautious 
glance  around.  "You  wouldn't  take  any  commission, 
so  I  put  the  same  money  into  a  pin.  Sh !  Slip  it  in 
your  pocket  —  quick,  before  anybody  sees." 


JAKE'S  GIFT  161 

Maggie  threw  herself  back  in  her  chair;  her  face 
expressed  a  vehement  disgust. 

"A  bribe!"  she  exclaimed,  sharply.  Her  thoughts 
worked  swiftly.  After  a  moment,  she  snapped  a  ques- 
tion at  the  expectant  Jake :  "What's  the  value  of  this 
pin?" 

"So  help  me!"  was  the  mournful  response;  "it  cost 
four  hundred  dollars." 

At  the  buyer's  next  remark,  delivered  in  a  level 
voice,  Jake  jumped  as  if  he  had  made  contact  with  a 
particularly  lively  wire. 

"Just  make  out  a  check  for  four  hundred  dollars, 
and  give  it  to  Holbrooke  and  Company  —  as  con- 
science money." 

"Eh?  What's  conscience  money?  Conscience!" 
If  the  jobber  had  any  knowledge  of  the  subject,  it  was 
strictly  limited  to  the  theoretical. 

"It  simply  means  that  you  admit  this  money  is 
Holbrooke  and  Company's,  not  yours." 

Jake  promptly  dodged  this  issue,  following  a  pro- 
fessional habit  in  his  next  subject. 

"I  said  it  cost  four  hundred,  but  I  only  paid  two 
hundred  —  it's  worth  six." 

"What  a  prolific  liar  you  are,  Jake!"  Maggie  de- 
clared, with  a  wintry  smile,  which,  for  some  unex- 
plained reason,  alarmed  the  man  exceedingly. 


1 62  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"I  don't  mind  your  calling-  me  a  liar,"  he  said, 
generously.  "That's  only  business.  But  that  'prolific' 
now  —  that  ain't  language  for  a  lady  to  use,  nohow. 
It  sounds  awful !  I  guess  sometimes  you  forget  I'm  a 
married  man." 

"I'd  forget  all  about  you,  if  you'd  let  me,"  Maggie 
answered,  wearily.  "But  come,  hurry  with  that  check. 
I'm  not  joking  about  it." 

Jake  tried  the  usual  tactics,  but  in  vain.  He  con- 
tested each  step  of  defeat.  He  argued  for  two  hun- 
dred, prayed  for  three,  and  wept  for  three-fifty, 
without  avail.  In  the  end,  he  passed  over  the  check 
for  four  hundred,  and  went  forth  a  chastened  man. 

"She  is  some  woman!  What?"  There  was  pro- 
found admiration  running  through  his  sorrow.  "What 
a  wife  —  if  she  wasn't  so  honest !" 

It  was  another  reprieve  from  the  ordeal  for  Maggie, 
when,  just  after  the  discomfited  jobber's  departure, 
Hargen  entered  the  stock-room,  and  came  straight  to 
the  buyer's  desk.  Notwithstanding  the  strained  rela- 
tions between  them,  the  girl  on  this  occasion  favored 
him  with  a  little  smile,  since  he  represented  delay  in 
the  one  thing  important. 

"Will  you  take  this  check,  sir?"  she  asked,  and 
extended  the  one  so  reluctantly  abandoned  by  Jake. 
"It  represents  an  overcharge." 


JAKE'S  GIFT  163 

"It  is  the  buyer's  place  to  see  that  there  are  no 
overcharges,"  the  manager  snarled.  He  regarded 
Maggie  with  a  malevolent  eye,  as  he  pulled  deter- 
minedly at  his  wisp  of  whisker.  "Mr.  Murchison  tells 
me  that  you  asked  for  a  thousand  dollars  advance 
salary.  He  has  informed  you  doubtless  of  my  refusal. 
I  wish  you  to  understand  that  this  is  not  a  bank. 
You're  getting  a  large  salary  as  it  is  —  very,  very 
large !  And  another  thing :  Miss  Pepper,  I  distinctly 
disapprove  of  this  vulgar  display  in  having  living 
women  exhibit  gowns  to  customers.  It  isn't  decent." 

The  color  rose  in  Maggie's  cheeks;  yet,  she  held 
her  voice  to  its  usual  musical  level  as  she  replied : 

"Our  sales  have  doubled  in  the  last  three  months." 

But  Hargen  was  not  wishful  to  argue.  He  jumped 
to  another  objection: 

"Fancy  restaurants  —  music  and  vaudeville  enter- 
tainments in  a  business  house !  I  tell  you  it  is  all  most 
unbusinesslike." 

"The  store  is  crowded;  the  business  is  simply 
enormous,"  came  the  cool  retort. 

"A  low,  catch-penny  show !"  Hargen  stormed.  "It's 
not  legitimate  business,  I  tell  you!" 

Maggie  retained  self-control  in  the  face  of  the 
manager's  rudeness. 

"It's  what  the  public  wants,"  she  said,  evenly.    "If 


•i 64  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

they  want  low,  catch-penny  shows,  as  you  term  them, 
then  we  have  to  give  them  that  sort  of  thing.  They 
want  a  lot  for  their  money.  If  we  don't  give  it  to 
them,  they'll  go  to  the  store  where  they  can  get  it." 

"I  don't  want  to  discuss  the  matter  with  you," 
Hargen  blustered. 

"If  you  prefer,  sir,"  Maggie  continued,  ill-advisedly, 
"I'll  consult  with  Mr.  Holbrooke  in  reference  to  the 
matter." 

The  manager  took  advantage  of  the  opening  in- 
stantly, and  retorted  in  a  voice  of  great  severity: 

"I  wish,  Miss  Pepper,  that  you  would  consult  less 
with  Mr.  Holbrooke." 

Maggie  raised  her  eyes  to  the  speaker's  in  a  quick 
alarm,  then  dropped  them  again  in  confusion.  She 
rebuked  herself  for  having  thus  given  her  enemy  the 
chance  to  attack  her  in  the  most  vulnerable  point. 

"I  —  I  don't  understand,"  she  said  slowly,  and,  in 
spite  of  her  effort  against  it,  her  voice  quavered 
slightly. 

"Oh,  perhaps  not,"  Hargen  replied,  in  a  manner 
intangibly  insulting.  "And,  by  the  way,"  he  went  on, 
suggestively,  "I  suppose  you  are  aware  of  his  impend- 
ing marriage  with  my  niece.  Still,  in  your  very  busy 
life  here,  the  fact  may  have  escaped  your  notice." 

The  inference   he  intended  was  unmistakable  —  so 


JAKE'S  GIFT  165 

unmistakable,  indeed,  that  involuntarily  Maggie 
winced,  and  her  hand  went  to  her  bosom  in  a  gesture 
of  suffering.  The  manager's  lips  bent  in  a  smile  of 
satisfaction  over  the  manner  in  which  his  bolt  had 
struck  home.  He  was  about  to  speak  again,  when  he 
was  interrupted  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  the  pros- 
pective bridegroom  whom  he  had  just  mentioned. 

Joseph  was  undoubtedly  in  the  best  of  spirits.  His 
face  was  wreathed  in  smiles.  Doing  his  duty  to  the 
family  and  tradition  and  noblesse  oblige  agreed  with 
the  heir  of  Holbrooke  and  Company. 

"The  place  is  packed  —  jammed  full,"  he  exclaimed, 
with  a  joyous  chuckle.  "Simply  can't  keep  'em  out, 
you  know.  .  .  .  We  need  more  saleswomen  and  sales- 
men, both,"  he  added.  "I  wish  you'd  see  to  it  right 
away,  Mr.  Hargen." 

The  manager,  however,  did  not  relax  the  austerity 
of  his  demeanor  in  response  to  Joseph's  good-nature. 
On  the  contrary,  he  frowned  darkly,  as  he  replied : 

"I'm  afraid  that  people  are  attracted  more  by  our 
flamboyant  methods  of  advertising  than  they  are  by 
our  wares  themselves.  Most  of  them  merely  come  here 
to  amuse  themselves." 

"Oh,  do  they !"  Joseph  exclaimed,  with  undiminished 
cheerfulness.  "I  observe  with  pleasure,  none  the  less, 
that  they  spend  a  pot  of  money." 


1 66  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"It  won't  last,"  Hargen  prophesied,  being  able  to 
think  of  nothing  more  convincing  with  which  to  refute 
the  facts. 

"Why,  then,  we'll  just  make  hay  while  the  sun 
shines/'  was  Joseph's  undisturbed  reply.  He  was 
turning  away  toward  the  girl,  when  he  was  interrupted 
by  a  question  from  the  manager,  uttered  with  every 
appearance  of  respect,  yet  thoroughly  malicious  in  its 
motive,  as  Maggie  realized. 

"As  you  say,  of  course,"  he  remarked,  with  sus- 
picious affability.  Then,  he  added:  "Did  you  —  er 
—  wish  to  speak  to  me  ?" 

"No,"  Joseph  answered,  without  hesitation  or  any 
trace  of  self-consciousness ;  "I  just  ran  in  for  a  moment 
to  ask  Miss  Pepper  about  something." 

The  manager  sneered  openly  as  he  perceived  the 
eyes  of  the  girl  fastened  on  him.  Again,  she  dropped 
her  eyes  in  a  trouble  almost  too  bitter  to  be  endured. 
How  great  had  been  her  fault,  since  she  could  be 
thus  openly  flouted  by  one  whom  she  despised  I 


CHAPTER   XIV 
DARKIN'S   ENTRANCE 

JOSEPH,  left  alone  with  Maggie,  was  still  all  agog 
with  excitement  over  the  extraordinary  success  of 
which  his  own  eyes  had  just  been  witness  in  the  store. 

"It's  simply  marvelous,"  he  went  on  enthusiastically, 
"how  the  people  climb  over  one  another  to  buy  bar- 
gains. That  Monday  morning  bargain-counter  idea 
of  yours  was  a  great  institution.  Ah,  it's  the  gentle 
art  of  making  them  believe  you  give  them  something 
for  nothing  that  does  the  trick.  And  of  that  art,  Miss 
Pepper,"  he  added,  with  a  bow  of  exaggerated  rever- 
ence, "I  acknowledge  you  to  be  the  past  grand  mistress. 
I  wish  you'd  let  me  tell  everybody  the  truth,  that  it's 
you  to  whom  I'm  indebted  for  all  my  ideas.  I  don't 
know  a  blessed  thing  about  the  business.  I  merely 
follow  your  instructions  like  a  child.  You  get  nothing, 
and  I  get  all  the  glory.  It  makes  me  feel  an  awful 
fraud." 

Maggie's  cheeks  had  grown  rosy  again  under  his 
words  of  praise  and  the  look  in  his  eyes  as  they  met 

167 


i68  MAGGIE  PEPPER 

hers  — a  look  that  bordered  close  on  tenderness. 
Now,  she  raised  a  protesting  hand  against  his  self- 
dispraise  ;  but  he  would  not  be  checked. 

"This  Napoleon  of  the  mercantile  world  is  nothing 
more  than  a  puppet,"  he  railed.  "The  strings  are 
pulled  by  a  girl  unknown  to  history  as  yet,  whose  name 
is  Maggie  Pepper.  Actually,  when  anyone  congratu- 
lates me,  I  feel  as  though  I'd  stolen  something.  For 
the  matter  of  that,  so  I  have :  I've  stolen  your  laurels. 
My  friends  ask  me  with  great  respect,  and  much  more 
surprise:  'Where  do  you  get  your  ideas?'  They 
usually  add :  'You  never  used  to  have  any' —  which 
is  painfully  true.  They  pat  me  on  the  back  for  being 
a  business  genius,  and  all  I  can  do  is  to  grin  and  play 
the  hypocrite." 

"And  so  you  are,"  Maggie  made  defense  as  best  she 
could.  "When  an  idea  is  submitted  to  you  by  me  or 
by  anyone  else,  you  have  the  gift  of  right  judgment; 
you  can  discriminate,  tell  the  difference  between  the 
good  and  the  bad.  That's  genius." 

"You're  talking  nonsense,  and  you  know  it,  Maggie 
Pepper,"  Joseph  retorted.  "I've  taken  your  ideas  and 
nobody's  except  yours;  and  every  single  one  of  yours 
Has  been  a  corker.  I  didn't  know :  you  did.  That's  all 
there  is  to  it.  As  for  me,  I'm  just  a  sham,  a  pretense. 
You've  done  the  whole  thing.  You've  made  the  change 


DARKIN'S  ENTRANCE  169 

from  failure  to  success.  We  were  going  under.  Since 
you've  taken  hold,  we're  beating  our  competitors. 
Now,  my  dear  girl,  I  want  to  ask  you  why  shouldn't 
I  make  the  truth  known?  Think  how  you  would 
enjoy !" 

Maggie  interrupted  him  sharply,  her  voice  sur- 
charged with  bitterness: 

"How  I  would  enjoy  having  people  not  pay  atten- 
tion to  me  of  any  sort!  Mr.  Hargen  just  saw  fit  to 
remind  me  of  the  fact  that  you  were  engaged  to  be 
married  to  his  niece."  She  did  not  venture  to  raise  her 
eyes,  as  she  brought  up  the  direful  topic  in  a  burst  of 
bravery. 

"What  on  earth  made  him  speak  of  that  —  to  you, 
of  all  persons,  I'd  like  to  know !"  Joseph's  astonish- 
ment was  unmistakably  genuine. 

It  was  Maggie's  opportunity,  and  she  seized  it, 
though  all  a-tremble  with  fears. 

"Mr.  Holbrooke,  people  are  beginning  —  to  talk  — 
about  us!"  The  music  of  her  low  voice  shook  with 
the  pulse  of  her  emotion.  In  this  moment,  she  realized, 
more  than  ever  before,  how  dear  to  her  was  the  man 
who  stood  so  close  to  her,  listening,  watching,  won- 
dering. It  seemed  to  her  that  every  word  she  uttered 
was  dragging  horribly  at  the  roots  of  love  deep  in  her 
heart.  It  would  have  been  hard  to  talk  on  such  a 


170  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

theme  with  any  man :  with  him,  the  task  became  intol- 
erable torment.  Yet,  by  a  mighty  effort  of  will,  she 
forced  herself  to  go  forward :  "Oh,  I  know  they  must 
talk  about  something,  but  I  can't  bear  it  that  they 
should  talk  about  us  —  I  mean  about  you ;  for  myself, 
I  don't  mind  so  much.  So,  you  see,  you  mustn't  ask 
me  to  take  luncheon  with  you  again,  and  you  mustn't 
come  into  this  office  so  much,  and  you  mustn't  refer 
persons  to  me  so  much,  and  you  mustn't  —  oh,  every- 
thing!" 

Joseph  stood  aghast  before  this  storm.  By  instinct, 
he  realized  how  close  she  was  to  the  breaking  point, 
and  at  the  moment  his  chief  concern  was  for  her, 
rather  than  for  the  scandal  to  which  she  had  referred. 
So,  he  spoke  as  soothingly  as  he  could,  seeking  to 
impress  on  her  the  triviality  of  the  whole  matter. 

"Absurd!"  he  exclaimed,  vigorously.  "I  have  to 
see  you  constantly.  It's  purely  a  matter  of  business. 
Besides,  I  speak  to  plenty  of  other  women." 

But  Maggie  was  not  to  be  cajoled.  Under  the 
stress  of  this  crisis,  she  forgot  the  hamper  of  elegance, 
and  went  with  a  verbal  rush : 

"And  does  Hargen  think  it's  necessary  to  chase  after 
them,  too?  I  guess,  nit!  No,  sir,  you're  known  as 
the  Continental  cut-up  all  over  the  shopping  district. 
Any  time  anyone  calls  to  see  you,  they're  sent  here, 


DARKIN'S  ENTRANCE  171 

always,  because  you're  here  —  always !  You  got  back 
from  Europe  with  an  awful  black  eye,  morally.  It 
don't  matter  a  darn  whether  you  deserved  all  you  got, 
or  not  —  you  got  it,  and  they're  not  going  to  let  you 
lose  it,  if  they  can  help  it.  And  you've  raised  my  salary 
so  often  that  it's  enough  to  make  the  vaudeville  top- 
liners  want  a  job  with  you.  .  .  .  And,  anyhow,  they're 
talking,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it  —  and  a  lot  too 
much,  I  tell  you !  So,  there!" 

The  overwrought  girl  was  so  near  to  tears  as  she 
concluded  that  Joseph  eagerly  grasped  at  the  first 
chance  to  change  the  subject,  since  further  discussion 
of  it  at  the  moment  must  inevitably  carry  her  beyond 
self-control. 

"Now,  that's  what  puzzles  me,"  he  remarked,  in  a 
tone  as  casual  as  he  could  contrive.  "I'd  like  to  know 
what  on  earth  you  do  with  all  your  money.  You  have 
a  comfortable  salary  —  though  nothing  like  what  you 
deserve,  even  if  it  has  been  raised  one  or  twice  —  and 
yet  I  hear  from  Mr.  Hargen  that  you  want  a  thousand 
dollars  advance.  The  question  in  your  case  is  not, 
'How  did  she  get  it?'  but,  'What  does  she  do  with  it?' 
It  can't  cost  so  thundering  much  to  run  your  place, 
and  pay  Margie's  bills;  and  you  haven't  any  old  folk 
to  support.  I  don't  want  to  pry,  but  I  do  own  up  to 
a  good,  healthy  curiosity,  if  it's  anything  you  care  to 


172  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

tell  me.  .  .  .  And,  about  that  thousand,  of  course  I'll 
attend  to  that  for  you." 

His  words  comforted  the  girl  greatly.  As  he  had 
hoped  they  might,  they  took  her  thought  for  a  moment 
from  the  scandal  to  her  other  trouble,  for  which  she 
had  strength  a-plenty.  She  dared  now  to  look  up  at 
him,  timidly,  trustingly.  She  could  not  hide  the  ten- 
derness in  her  eyes,  and  the  man,  although  he  did  not 
realize  all  the  meaning  in  her  glance,  felt  the  appeal 
of  it  thrill  throughout  him.  There  was  no  thought  in 
his  brain  of  any  disloyalty  toward  the  girl  to  whom  he 
was  engaged ;  there  was  no  conscious  feeling  of  love 
or  passion  toward  the  girl  there  before  him;  as  he 
bent  still  nearer,  and  dropped  one  hand  over  hers 
where  it  rested  on  the  desk.  He  knew  and  felt  only 
the  warm  sympathy  that  friend  may  give  to  friend  in 
joy  or  pain.  ...  At  least,  that  was  all  so  far  as  he  was 
aware ! 

The  contact  of  his  hand  was  inexpressibly  grateful 
to  the  girl ;  the  pulse  of  it  vibrated  through  her  blood, 
beat  in  her  heart.  The  tenderness  in  her  shining  eyes 
grew  and  softened  wondrously,  so  that  Joseph  glowed 
from  the  warmth  of  it,  and  thought  how  beautiful  a 
thing  was  friendship. 

"I  can't  lose  you  out  of  my  life,"  he  said,  gently. 


DARKIN'S  ENTRANCE  173 

"You  ve  been  my  friend;  now,  you  must  let  me  be 
yours." 

A  slight  noise  near-by  startled  the  two.  Though 
there  was  no  guilt  in  the  heart  of  either,  yet  they  moved 
apart  with  a  guilty  movement,  as  their  eyes  unlocked 
to  stare  indignantly  at  the  intruder.  As  she  recognized 
the  man  standing  a  little  way  behind  Joseph,  Maggie's 
face,  which  had  flushed  daintily  an  instant  before, 
whitened. 

"Excuse  me,"  the  newcomer  said,  with  jaunty  inso- 
lence, as  the  proprietor  of  the  establishment  glared  at 
him,  "I  didn't  know  I  was  interrupting  —  thought 
this  was  a  business  office."  He  grinned  maliciously  at 
the  two,  and  even  forgot  the  proprieties  so  far  as  to 
wink  at  the  indignant  Joseph. 

"It's  all  right,  Mr.  Holbrooke,"  Maggie  exclaimed 
hastily;  for  she  saw  that  the  young  man  was  on  the 
verge  of  an  explosion.  "It's  someone  I  know." 

"Very  well,  then,"  the  master  of  the  place  remarked 
in  his  most  official  voice,  reluctantly  removing  his 
accusing  gaze  from  the  person  who  had  appeared  at 
such  an  inopportune  time;  "I'll  see  you  again  about 
the  estimates."  This  for  the  benefit  of  the  creature 
who  had  dared  wink  at  him  with  such  disgusting  free- 
dom. Having  thus  delivered  himself,  he  chose  not  to 


174  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

ring  for  tne  elevator,  but  went  out  by  the  door  leading 
to  the  stairway. 

At  once,  Maggie  turned  angrily  on  the  visitor. 

"I  told  you  not  to  come  here,  Mr.  Darkin,"  she  said, 
coldly.  Her  manner  had  now  regained  all  the  elegan- 
cies of  the  higher  world.  "Why  have  you  ventured  to 
disobey  me?" 

The  man  whom  she  addressed  was  eminently  hand- 
some, in  a  florid  way:  to  the  discerning  eye,  he  was 
still  more  eminently  a  villain.  He  drew  near  the  desk 
nonchalantly,  plainly  not  a  whit  impressed  by  the  girl's 
disdainful  reception. 

"You  were  not  at  home,"  he  explained  succinctly, 
"so  I  came  here.  Now,  I've  got  a  proposition  to  make. 
Since  Ada's  out  of  jail,  I've  got  a  hunch  to  go  out 
West.  I've  decided,  and  we're  going  right  away.  I 
need  a  little  money  to  start  a  game.  .  .  .  Give  me 
five  thousand  dollars  for  that,  and  we'll  never  bother 
you  or  Zaza  again  —  give  you  a  clear  bill  of  sale  — 
never  see  her  or  speak  to  her  again.  So  help  me,  on 
the  level!"  He  threw  out  his  chest,  and  stroked  a 
moustache  that  had  doubtless  worked  much  havoc  in 
feminine  hearts  of  a  certain  type.  "I  pledge  you  my 
sacred  word  of  honor!" 

Maggie  ignored  his  bombast. 

"You've  actually  no  claim  on  the  girl,"  she  said 


DARKIN'S  ENTRANCE  175 

firmly,  with  her  eyes  boring  into  him,  "and  you  know 
it.  I've  been  a  fool  too  long.  You've  been  black- 
mailing me  for  months,  and  I'm  done.  You  can't  do 
anything." 

"Her  mother  has  a  claim,"  the  man  returned,  with 
a  scowl.  "She  can  do  something,  and  don't  you  forget 
it,  Miss  High-and-Lofty.  Blackmail  nothing!  The 
girl's  ours :  if  you  want  her,  buy  her.  I  have  a  friend, 
a  pal  of  mine,  who  stands  ready  to." 

Maggie  recoiled  in  horror.  She  understood  only 
too  well  the  hideousness  of  his  meaning.  In  a  new 
fear,  she  sought  to  placate  the  scoundrel. 

"I  can't  give  it  to  you  —  I  haven't  it,"  she  declared, 
weakly.  "You've  drained  me  dry.  I  —  I'm  sorry,  but 
I  haven't  it,  and  I  can't  get  it." 

Darkin  laughed  mockingly. 

"That'll  do  for  you,"  he  sneered.  "Don't  give  me 
any  more  of  that  stuff.  I've  got  eyes  in  my  head,  and 
what  I've  just  seen  shows  that  you've  got  a  pretty 
strong  pull  with  this  Mr.  Joseph  Holbrooke  —  even 
if  I  hadn't  heard  all  about  you  two  before.  Fine  one 
you  are  to  bring  up  a  young  girl !  Guess  I'd  better  not 
risk  Zaza  with  her  auntie.  .  .  .  Still,  I  might  strain 
a  point,  if  you  pony  up  just  now." 

But  the  vicious  creature  had  overshot  the  mark,  for 
once.  His  malignant  insults,  far  from  subjugating  the 


176  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

girl,  as  he  had  expected,  served  only  as  the  stimulus 
she  required  for  a  new,  fierce  courage.  She  sat  per- 
fectly motionless  until  he  had  done,  her  eyes  downcast, 
so  that  he  could  not  see  the  flames  that  burned  in  them. 
When  he  paused  at  last  for  lack  of  another  obscene 
jibe,  she  continued  silent  for  a  little,  seeking  calm 
sufficient  for  words.  In  her  attitude  and  restraint,  he 
read  the  evidences  of  victory,  and  stood  in  triumph, 
awaiting  the  confession  of  defeat. 

It  was  just  then  that  Joseph  reentered  the  room, 
Maggie  barely  glanced  at  him,  as  he  crossed  to  the 
desk.  Her  whole  feeling  was  a  desire  to  kill  the  man 
who  had  just  insulted  her. 

"There's  that  check  for  a  thousand,"  Joseph  said 
briskly,  laying  the  slip  of  paper  on  the  desk  before  her. 
"I  thought  I'd  attend  to  it  right  away." 

Still,  Maggie  paid  no  heed;  but  Darkin  stepped 
forward  eagerly.  He  gave  a  grunt  of  disappointment 
as  he  read  the  figures  on  the  check.  Then,  he  addressed 
the  girl  in  a  tone  of  superlative  confidence : 

"Well,  I'll  take  this  now,  if  you'll  indorse  it  over, 
and  you  can  fix  it  up  to  get  the  balance  from  your 
friend  any  time  within  a  month.  .  .  .  That'll  do  me." 

"If  I  can  be  of  any  service  — — "  Joseph  suggested 
doubtfully,  with  a  suspicious  glance  toward  the 
speaker. 


DARKIN'S  ENTRANCE  177 

By  a  violent  effort,  Maggie  subdued  her  murderous 
rage  sufficiently  to  answer.  But,  first,  she  picked  up 
the  check,  and  tore  it  into  fragments.  At  the  sound 
of  her  voice,  Darkin  started  in  consternation:  it  was 
quavering  with  hate :  there  was  no  under-note  of  fear : 

"I  should  like  to  have  you  kill  this  man  for  me, 
right  here  and  now,"  she  said,  with  a  wan  smile  for 
Joseph;  "but  I  sha'n't  let  you,  on  your  own  account. 
You  may  tell  him,  however,  that,  if  he  ever  comes 
here  again,  he  will  be  arrested  for  blackmail,  and  that 
he  will  never  get  another  dollar  from  me." 

Under  the  eyes  of  wrath  with  which  Joseph  trans- 
fixed him,  Darkin  decided  not  to  stand  upon  the  order 
of  his  going. 

"I'll  fade  now,"  he  called  over  his  shoulder,  as  he 
hurried  toward  the  elevator,  which  was  just  appearing 
up  the  shaft.  He  waited  until  he  was  safe  within 
and  the  door  shut,  before  venturing  any  more.  From 
this  point  of  vantage,  however,  he  dared  hurl  a  warn- 
ing: "Talk  it  over,  Maggie.  I'll  give  you  just  a 
week  to  make  up  your  mind  as  to  whether  Zaza  goes 
with  me,  or  not.  .  .  .  By-bye!"  With  that,  he  shot 
from  sight. 

Left  alone  with  Joseph,  Maggie  stood  for  a  minute 
in  silence,  a-tremble  under  the  burden  of  over-tried 
emotions.  The  young  man  remained  attentive,  ten- 


178  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

clerly  solicitous,  yet  anxious  to  avoid  aught  that  could 
intensify  her  feeling  in  any  way.  It  was  his  instinct 
—  purely  as  a  matter  of  friendship  —  to  take  her  into 
his  arms,  and  there  comfort  her  as  one  might  a  tired 
child.  Nevertheless,  he  did  not  quite  dare.  A  secret 
peril  seemed  to  lie  hidden  deep  within  the  act,  though 
what  it  was  he  could  not  see.  So,  he  waited  discreetly, 
ready  to  serve  her,  but  with  no  overt  display  of  zeal 
to  cause  alarm. 

Presently,  she  turned  to  him;  her  red  lips  crept 
toward  a  smile  that  was  more  pitiful  than  tears : 

"Please,  go  now.  I  will  thank  you  another  time. 
I've  been  through  so  much  to-day  —  all  I  can  stand. 
I'm  going  home  right  away  —  I  must  go  —  and  rest !" 
She  was  wild  with  longing  for  the  shelter  of  his  arms. 
But  in  her  heart  was  something  he  must  never  know. 
She  must  be  rid  of  him  quickly  now,  or  it  would  be  too 
late.  "Go !"  she  breathed.  "Oh,  go  —  go  quick !" 

For  the  sake  of  that  friendship  which  he  bore  her, 
Joseph  yielded  obedience,  though  obedience  cost  him 
dear.  He  turned  from  her,  and  left  her  where  she 
stood,  drooping.  He  went  with  lagging  steps,  but  he 
was  faithful  to  her  command,  and  passed  out  of  the 
room  without  a  backward  look.  .  .  .  And  in  his  heart, 
.too,  a  curious  new  knowledge  began  its  dawning. 


CHAPTER   XV 

PLOTTINGS 

IT  was,  perhaps,  unfortunate  for  all  concerned  that 
the  events  just  narrated  should  have  caused  Joseph 
to  be  late  in  keeping  an  engagement  with  Ethel  for 
tea  at  the  Savoy,  the  same  afternoon.  It  is  not  grati- 
fying to  a  woman's  self-love  to  wait  tediously  for  a 
laggard  lover.  A  single  instance  is  bad  enough:  it 
becomes  unendurable  when  the  delinquency  is  only  one 
of  many,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  young 
man  was  becoming  very  remiss  in  his  attendance.  The 
gravity  of  the  fault  was  not  lessened  by  the  fact  that 
Joseph  himself  was  obviously  unaware  that  he  was 
not  a  model  of  ardent  behavior.  Indeed,  this  incredible 
ignorance  was  the  most  insulting  part  of  his  conduct 
from  the  girl's  standpoint.  It  was  bad  enough,  in  all 
conscience,  that  he  should  expose  her  to  gossip  by  his 
outrageous  postponement  of  the  nuptials,  and  by  con- 
spicuous attentions  to  another  woman :  it  was  intoler- 
able that  he  should  go  his  way  serenely  unconscious 
of  the  manner  in  which  now  he  persistently  neglected 

179 


i8o  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

his  fiance.  Usually,  Ethel  strove  to  mask  her  dis- 
pleasure with  the  situation,  for  she  was  determined 
that  Joseph  should  not  escape  her,  and  she  feared  the 
effect  on  him  at  this  time,  were  she  to  try  him  over- 
much. To-day,  however,  after  she  had  waited  fretfully 
for  the  best  part  of  an  hour,  her  temper,  naturally  by 
no  means  the  most  amiable  in  the  world,  was  at  the 
breaking  point.  The  loveliness  of  her  face  was  marred 
by  a  heavy  frown,  and  a  glimpse  of  anger  showed 
beneath  the  assumed  calm  of  her  expression. 

Nevertheless,  when,  at  last,  the  recreant  Joseph  made 
his  appearance,  the  girl's  brows  returned  to  their 
natural  arch  as  if  by  magic,  and  the  compressed  lips 
relaxed  in  an  instant  to  the  scarlet  charm  of  their 
smile.  There  was  only  a  coquettish  vivacity  in  the 
reproof  with  which  she  seasoned  her  greeting: 

"You  are  shockingly  late,  Joe!  You  are  assuming 
the  vices  of  a  married  man  too  early."  She  added  a 
little  peal  of  laughter  at  her  own  jest. 

Joseph  smiled  in  answer,  as  he  took  his  place  at  the 
table,  but  there  was  only  a  feeble  mockery  of  merriment 
in  his  face.  He  was  still  agitated  seriously  by  the 
developments  of  the  day,  and  he  was,  too,  thrilling 
with  that  knowledge  which  had  just  begun  to  dawn 
within  his  heart.  He  made  the  best  pretense  of  which 
he  was  capable  to  appear  at  ease  and  contented  in 


PLOTTINGS  181 

the  company  of  his  betrothed,  but  his  best  was  a  poor 
thing.  It  did  not  in  the  least  impose  on  the  girl  oppo- 
site him,  and  the  anger  she  concealed  grew  venomous. 
His  excuse  for  tardiness  was  chosen  with  stupendous 
folly  —  a  folly  he  might  have  avoided  had  he  stopped 
to  think  that  the  fact  of  Hargen's  remarks  to  Maggie 
proved  Ethel  conversant  of  the  intimacy  between  him- 
self and  the  buyer.  Not  having  troubled  to  reason  in 
such  wise,  Joseph  innocently  did  his  worst : 

"Sorry  to  be  late,  darling.  Couldn't  help  it,  you 
know.  I've  just  been  going  over  something  very 
important  with  Miss  Pepper.  I  wanted  her  judgment 
—  plans,  you  know  —  an  extension  —  er " 

Ethel  waited  for  more  in  an  apparent  patience  that 
belied  her  seething  spirit;  but  the  young  man's  voice 
trailed  into  silence,  without  any  attempt  to  make  his 
explanation  more  precise.  Finally,  his  fiance  spoke. 
Her  voice  had  a  metallic  quality,  although  her  lips 
were  still  smiling;  her  dark  eyes  glowed  more  brightly 
than  was  their  wont,  though  there  was  no  frown  on 
the  brows.  In  either  cheek,  a  faint  flame  showed 
through  the  pallor,  significant  of  much ;  and  her  slender 
form  was  tense.  Joseph  took  no  note  of  any  of  these 
things,  except  that  the  quality  of  the  voice  vaguely 
disturbed  him. 

"That's  just  a  trifle  indefinite,  Joe,"  she  said,  very 


1 82  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

quietly.  "Really,  I  can't  help  congratulating  Miss 
Pepper  on  the  enormous  amount  of  praise  you  give  her 
for  carrying  out  your  ideas.  At  the  same  time,  a  man 
who  commands  the  envy  and  admiration  of  the  entire 
business  world  surely  doesn't  need  to  have  his  judg- 
ment endorsed  by  a  common,  ordinary  person  like 
Miss  Pepper." 

Before  she  had  advanced  far  in  this  perfectly  natural 
rebuke,  Joseph  forgot  the  uneasiness  provoked  by  the 
metallic  quality  in  her  voice.  After  his  experiences  of 
the  day,  full  of  the  friendship  with  which  he  regarded 
the  person  thus  belittled  by  his  betrothed,  he  was  bound 
to  protest,  which  he  did  with  undiplomatic  vigor  and 
sincerity : 

"Miss  Pepper  is  not  a  common,  ordinary  person, 
Ethel,  by  any  manner  of  means,"  he  said  stiffly,  yet 
emphatically.  "On  the  contrary,  she  is  the  most  ex- 
traordinary woman  I  have  ever  met."  With  this 
sweeping  assertion,  he  stopped  to  glare  across  the  table 
with  an  expression  the  reverse  of  loverlike. 

It  argued  well  for  Ethel's  strength  of  will  that  she 
was  able  still  to  dam  the  flood  of  her  wrath.  Only, 
the  faint  red  showed  warmer  through  the  oval  pallor 
of  her  cheeks,  and  the  metallic  ring  in  her  tones  was 
still  more  audible  when  she  spoke. 

"Really!"  she  exclaimed,  with  the  daintiest  of  smiles 


PLOTTINGS  183 

on  her  scarlet  lips.     "But  isn't  that  a  bit  —  just  a 
weeny  bit  —  extravagant,  Joe?" 

The  lover,  however,  was  not  to  be  weakened  from 
his  devotion  to  the  sacred  cause  of  friendship.  He 
felt  in  his  breast  that  virtuous  glow  which  is  the  due  of 
loyalty  to  another  in  the  face  of  aspersion.  It  may  be, 
too,  if  all  the  truth  were  to  be  told,  that  his  firmness 
in  defense  of  Maggie  was  braced  to  some  extent  by 
obstinancy  aroused  on  hearing  her  thus  unjustly 
attacked.  Whatever  the  cause,  he  was  undoubtedly 
resolute  in  maintaining  his  position  concerning  her 
—  alas !  more  resolute  than  discreet. 

"Not  a  bit!"  he  cried,  energetically.  "Why,  she 
is  the  cleverest  girl !  Some  day,  dearest,  I'll  explain  to 
you  more  fully  what  she  is,  and  what  she  means  to 
me.  For  the  present,  it's  a  secret  between  us,  you 
know." 

The  only  thing  that  saved  the  fatuous  young  man 
from  a  scene  after  this  avowal,  enough  from  her  lover 
to  madden  any  woman,  was  the  opportune  arrival  of 
friends,  who  took  the  table  adjoining.  Ethel  made 
an  heroic  effort  at  self-control,  and  achieved  it  by  a 
scant  margin.  In  the  end,  she  decided  that,  from  the 
manner  of  the  man,  he  could  not  be  guilty  after  the 
fashion  directly  implied  in  his  words.  In  all  proba- 
bility, he  was  rather  foolish  than  vicious.  It  was  the 


1 84  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

only  explanation  reconcilable  to  so  great  frankness  in 
speaking  of  his  relations  with  the  girl.  Anything 
directly  evil,  he  would  have  concealed.  The  one  safe 
course  to  be  pursued,  then,  was  the  breaking  off  of  all 
association  between  him  and  the  other  woman.  What- 
ever difficulties  might  lie  in  the  way  of  this,  it  must  be 
accomplished,  and  without  a  moment's  unnecessary 
delay.  Having  come  to  this  determination,  Ethel 
refrained  from  further  mention  of  the  matter  to  her 
lover,  and  her  parting  from  him  on  her  return  home 
was  as  amicable  as  ever. 

At  once,  however,  she  had  recourse  to  her  uncle, 
who  had  just  arrived  from  his  office.  She  drew  him 
into  the  drawing-room,  and  broached  the  subject  im- 
mediately : 

"Uncle,"  she  exclaimed,  without  preamble,  "that 
woman  must  go.  The  way  she  and  Joseph  are  carrying 
on  is  a  disgrace,  and  I  won't  stand  it."  Now  that 
disguise  wras  not  imperative,  Ethel  let  her  rage  flame 
from  her  eyes.  There  was  no  longer  any  smile  on  the 
scarlet  lips;  her  black  brows  were  drawn  level;  her 
voice  was  harsh. 

"I  don't  blame  you  for  objecting,"  Hargen  answered, 
as  he  tugg-ed  at  his  whisker  perplexedly.  "And  she 
bothers  me  almost  as  much  as  she  does  you.  Her 
retention  in  the  store  was  a  personal  affront  to  me, 


PLOTTINGS  185 

after  I  had  formally  discharged  her.  Imagine  —  taken 
back  and  promoted!  But  what  can  I  do?"  The 
manager  paced  back  and  forth  in  great  perturbation 
for  a  minute,  while  his  niece  regarded  him  in  sullen 
disapproval.  Then,  he  faced  her  again,  and  spoke 
dejectedly.  "I  don't  know  what  to  do.  He  won't 
listen  to  having  her  dismissed.  For  that  matter,  he'd 
reengage  her  as  fast  as  I  could  discharge  her.  Lately, 
the  damned  whelp  has  developed  an  obstinate  streak, 
and  I  can't  do  a  thing  with  him."  Ethel  made  no 
criticism  of  the  epithet  applied  to  her  lover.  "  'Nothing 
succeeds  like  success,'  he  says,"  Hargen  continued, 
wearily.  "Somehow,  he's  got  a  ridiculous  notion  that 
this  Pepper  woman  is  necessary  to  his  success." 

"Yes,"  the  girl  said,  furiously;  "he  was  good  enough 
to  tell  me  something  of  the  sort,  this  afternoon." 

Hargen  regarded  his  niece  curiously  for  a  moment. 

"He'll  have  some  pleasant  times  after  you're  mar- 
ried, I  fancy,"  he  said,  quizzically.  "I  dislike  him  so 
intensely  that  I'm  looking  forward  with  pleasant  an- 
ticipation to  the  happy  event."  He  chuckled,  as  he 
contemplated  the  lowering  features  of  the  girl.  "My 
advice,"  he  went  on  briskly,  "is  that  you  get  married  as 
soon  as  possible,  and  then  it  will  be  your  duty  —  and, 
I  suppose,  your  pleasure  as  well  —  to  take  the  matter 
into  your  own  hands.  It  would  be  undignified  to  speak 


1 86  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

now,  my  dear.  Besides,  you  have  no  evidence  —  not 
of  the  sort  that  counts." 

Ethel  flared : 

"Don't  talk  bosh  to  me!"  she  cried,  coarsely.  "I 
tell  you,  you  must  send  that  woman  packing  —  now 
—  the  first  thing  to-morrow  morning !"  She  stamped 
her  foot ;  she  brought  down  her  clenched  fists  in  a  short 
gesture  of  rage :  "I  say,  you  shall !" 

"But  —  really  now "  The  uncle's  further  pro- 
test was  cut  short. 

"If  you  don't,"  Ethel  stormed,  "I  will!  I'm  no 
prude,  as  I  told  him  once.  I  don't  mind  a  man  with  a 
past.  What  I  won't  have  is  a  man  with  a  present  — 
right  under  my  nose,  and  for  all  the  world  to  see  — 
and  perhaps  with  a  future,  too.  I  won't  have  it,  and 
that  settles  it.  I  —  I'll  break  off  the  engagement  first." 

Hargen  started  in  alarm. 

"Don't  for  heaven's  sake,  do  that,  Ethel!"  he 
pleaded.  There  was  a  curious  anxiety  in  his  tones. 

"I  won't,  if  I  can  help  it,"  was  Ethel's  careless 
answer.  "But,"  she  continued  imperiously,  "you  must 
understand  that  I'm  not  going  to  be  laughed  at  any 
longer.  I  used  to  be  fond  of  Joe  —  might  be  again. 
But  it  isn't  that,  now.  It's  simply  that  the  situation  is 
impossible.  .  .  .  That  woman  can't  stay  in  the  store 
for  another  day." 


PLOTTINGS  187 

In  reality,  the  girl's  will  was  the  stronger  of  the  two, 
and  it  prevailed  to  the  extent  that  Hargen  promised 
to  intervene  with  Joseph  for  the  removal  of  Maggie 
from  her  employment  with  the  firm.  So  insistent  was 
she  that  a  telephone-message  summoned  the  lover  for 
an  immediate  interview.  The  call  caught  him  at  his 
apartment,  and,  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  pre- 
sented himself  before  uncle  and  niece  in  the  drawing- 
room  of  the  Hargen  mansion. 

After  brief  greetings,  Ethel  came  straight  to  the 
point : 

"Joe,"  she  said  quietly,  "Uncle  wishes  to  speak  to 
you  in  reference  to  a  matter  of  some  importance.  He 
will  explain." 

"Hum !  It's  a  delicate  —  suppose,  my  dear,  you  — " 
Mr.  Hargen,  who  had  uttered  this  mucli  in  a  thor- 
oughly fidgetty  fashion,  came  to  a  halt,  and  turned 
beseeching  eyes  on  Ethel. 

"I  think,  Uncle,"  the  girl  said,  without  hesitation, 
"if  Joe  knew  my  earnest  desire  that  Miss  Pepper  should 
hand  in  her  resignation,  if  he  were  made  to  ;ec,lize  that 
my  —  that  our  —  whole  happiness  depends  0*1  this,  he 
would  consent." 

The  abrupt  introduction  of  the  topic  had  £rst  aston- 
ished Joseph,  then  filled  him  with  indignation.  He 
was  deeply  offended  by  this  wanton  mixing  of  his  love- 


1 88  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

affair  and  his  friendship,  which  had  nothing  at  all  in 
common.  He  spoke  his  mind  with  disconcerting 
directness : 

"Oh,  come  now,  Ethel,  and  you,  too,  Hr.  Hargen  — 
put  an  end  to  this  nonsense.  Your  happiness,  Ethel, 
is  not  dependent  in  any  way  on  Miss  Pepper's  remain- 
ing in  the  employ  of  Holbrooke  and  Company,  but  my 
business  success  is." 

"Ridiculous !"  Hargen  ejaculated,  in  all  sincerity. 

"It  may  seem  so  to  you,"  Joseph  admitted,  with  an 
unpleasant  glance  toward  his  business  manager;  "but 
it's  true,  nevertheless."  It  occurred  to  him  that  the 
only  way  to  escape  from  an  exceptionally  disagreeable 
situation,  while  also  satisfying  the  demands  of  friend- 
ship, lay  in  revealing  the  truth  concerning  his  great 
debt  to  Miss  Pepper.  "It  is  a  fact,"  he  went  on,  "that 
she,  and  no  one  else,  is  responsible  for  every  one  of 
the  changes  that  have  taken  place  in  the  concern  since 
my  return  from  Europe.  Hers  has  been  the  mind  that 
conceived  and  carried  out  the  plans  which  have  resulted 
in  a  success  so  tremendous  that  it  has  put  me  on  the 
top  of  the  heap.  .  .  .  Oh,  I  know  the  nasty  things 
that  have  been  said  about  us;  but  they're  just  lies  — 
malicious,  wicked  lies.  .  .  .  Will  you  believe  that, 
Ethel?" 

The  girl,  at  this  appeal,  did  not  hesitate.    In  a  way, 


PLOTTINGS  189 

she  was  as  furious  as  before,  yet,  to  avoid  an  open 
rupture,  she  must  accept  his  explanation  —  at  least  to 
some  extent. 

"Certainly,  Joe  —  I  believe  what  you  tell  me,  of 
course." 

Joseph  received  this  rather  non-committal  answer 
quite  unsuspiciously. 

"So,  you  see,"  he  declared  triumphantly,  "it  would 
be  the  height  of  ingratitude  to  turn  her  out  after  all 
she  has  done  to  make  our  success.  My  feeling  toward 
her  is  gratitude,  and  —  er  —  friendship."  In  spite  of 
himself,  a  faint  light  from  that  dawning  of  knowledge 
within  his  heart  streamed  over  his  consciousness  most 
inopportunely,  as  he  made  an  end  of  speaking.  It 
confused  him  mightily,  for  Joseph  was  an  honest  young 
man,  and  honorable.  The  color  deepened  on  cheeks 
and  brow.  Ethel  saw  the  blush,  guessed  all  that  it 
meant,  and  vastly  more.  Her  spirit  hardened,  as  she 
listened  to  the  question  with  which  her  betrothed  broke 
a  short  silence.  "Don't  you  believe  me,  Ethel  ?" 

"Oh,  certainly,  Joe,"  she  replied,  coldly.  "But,  all 
the  same,  on  account  of  the  scandal  and  everything,  I 
still  think  it  would  be  better  that  she  should  go." 

The  disturbed  young  man  turned  impatiently  to  Mr. 
Hargen,  who  was  tugging  at  the  usual  whisker. 


190  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"And  you?"  he  demanded,  sharply.  There  was  an 
ominous  note  in  his  voice. 

"I  ?"  Hargen  exclaimed,  with  a  nervous  start.  "Oh, 
I'm  inclined  to  lean  toward  Ethel's  view,  on  account 
of  the  gossip.  But " 

Joseph  uttered  an  indignant  ejaculation. 

"You've  always  been  prejudiced  against  her,  Mr. 
Hargen.  Her  modern  ideas  have  conflicted  with  your 
archaic  business  methods." 

Hargen  winced  visibly  at  the  word  "archaic,"  but 
attempted  only  a  blandly  indulgent  smile.  He  was 
above  all  things  desirous  of  avoiding  an  open  disagree- 
ment with  the  owner  of  the  firm  at  just  this  time. 

Ethel,  however,  was  not  held  back  by  such  scruples- 
of  expediency.  She  expressed  her  opinion  candidly: 

"Really,  Joe,  the  most  unprejudiced  observer 
couldn't  help  seeing  you  are  so  wrapped  up  in  this 
woman  that  you  don't  hesitate  to  insult  anyone  who 
ventures  to  disagree  with  you  as  to  her  very  remark- 
able qualities."  She  was  not  even  at  pains,  for  once, 
to  conceal  the  sneer  that  accompanied  the  words. 

"She  has  remarkable  qualities,"  Joseph  maintained, 
stoutly.  There  had  come  a  complete  shedding  of  the 
good-nature  characteristic  of  him.  His  gray  eyes  were 
fiery;  his  chin  thrust  itself  forward  pugnaciously;  his 


PLOTTINGS  191 

voice  rasped.  "I've  explained  my  relations  with  her, 
and  I  think  that's  enough  of  the  subject.  If  you  want 
anything  more,  Ethel,  here  it  is :  Not  a  word  of  a 
personal  nature,  which  you  could  by  any  possibility 
construe  as  an  affront  to  yourself,  has  ever  passed 
between  us  —  on  my  honor."  He  spoke  the  literal 
truth  —  the  whole  truth,  as  he  understood  it.  Yet, 
deep  down  in  his  consciousness  lurked  a  shadow  of 
doubt  —  doubt  that  somehow  resembled  guilt.  "Do 
you  believe  me?"  he  questioned,  defiantly. 

"Yes,  Joe,  I  believe  you,"  the  girl  responded  quickly; 
and  now,  again,  she  held  her  temper  well  under  control. 
"But,  still,  I  do  beg  of  you  —  you  must  put  my  happi- 
ness above  a  mere  matter  of  gratitude  to  an  employee 
for  past  services.  Surely,  she  can  be  paid  —  as  gener- 
ously as  you  like  —  and  dismissed." 

Joseph  threw  out  his  hand,  in  a  gesture  of  supreme 
disgust,  as  he  gazed  savagely  on  the  speaker. 

"I  suppose  so!"  he  agreed,  contemptuously.  Then, 
as  he  went  on,  his  tones  deepened,  became  more 
vibrant:  "She  has  slaved  day  and  night.  She  has 
devoted  all  her  energy,  all  her  genius,  to  our  success. 
And,  now,  she  must  be  sacrificed  to  a  spoiled  girl's 
whim  —  because  I  am  supposed  to  be  a  gay  dog,  and 
all  that  kind  of  rot,  and  can't  live  down  a  silly  past.  I 
say,  it's  not  fair  to  punish  her  for  my  short-comings. 


192  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

I  tell  you  flat,  I  can't  do  it,  and  I  won't  —  and  there's 
an  end  of  the  matter!  .  .  .  Good-night." 

With  that,  Joseph  whirled  on  his  heel,  and  went  out 
of  the  room. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

MAGGIE   RESIGNS 

ETHEL  saw  nothing  of  Joseph  for  a  number  of  days, 
and  she  realized  that  a  crisis  had  come  in  her  affairs. 
Yet,  she  refused  to  abandon  the  hope  of  ultimate  vic- 
tory. She  possessed  much  subtlety  of  intellect  and 
craft  that  made  her  a  dangerous  adversary.  In  the 
present  emergency,  she  set  her  wits  to  studying  a  means 
by  which  she  could  gain  her  ends,  notwithstanding  her 
fiance's  dictum  concerning  Maggie  Pepper.  The 
result  of  her  deep  pondering  was  the  resolve  once  again 
that  the  woman  with  whom  Joseph  had  allowed  him- 
self to  become  entangled  must  go.  The  difference 
now,  however,  was  that  she  would  not  depend  in  any 
way  on  Joseph's  cooperation  in  securing  this  effect : 
on  the  contrary,  while  Maggie  Pepper  must  go,  the 
removal  must  be  accomplished  secretly.  Not  only  must 
the  head  of  the  firm  not  know  of  the  event  until  too 
late  to  interfere,  but  the  matter  must  be  carried  out  in 
such  manner  as  to  create  bitterness  between  the  two. 

Having  settled  definitely  on  the  course  to  be  pur- 
193 


194  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

sued,  Ethel  broached  the  subject  to  her  uncle  one 
evening,  and,  to  that  worried  gentleman's  consterna- 
tion, informed  him  that  he  was  to  be  the  active  agent 
in  clearing  his  niece's  path  of  Maggie.  The  old 
gentleman  remonstrated,  but  in  vain.  The  girl  had  no 
reluctance  in  exerting  her  stronger  will,  undeterred 
by  the  entreaties  of  her  kinsman.  When  he  showed 
signs  of  continuing  recalcitrant,  she  reduced  him  to 
subjection  by  brutally  saying  that  he  would  be  wise  to 
keep  her  as  a  friend,  rather  than  as  an  enemy,  since 
she  might  reveal  to  Joseph  certain  things  known  to  her 
concerning  the  manager's  juggling  with  the  firm's 
books.  At  that,  Mr.  Hargen's  face  became  more  than 
usually  bloodless,  and  he  secretly  cursed  himself  for 
ever  having  let  slip  the  bits  of  information  by  which  he 
was  now  in  the  girl's  power.  He  reflected  bitterly  that 
he  had  warmed  a  viper  in  his  bosom,  and,  so  reflecting, 
he  consented  to  do  anything  that  she  might  request. 
At  the  same  time,  he  shuddered,  for  he  found  himself 
between  the  devil  and  the  deep  sea.  On  the  one  hand, 
he  would  incur  the  enmity  of  Joseph,  which  was  likely 
to  prove  disastrous;  on  the  other,  he  would  fall  under 
Ethel's  displeasure,  which  was  worse.  Between  the  two 
evils,  he  wisely  chose  the  less,  and  thenceforth  com- 
panioned with  fear. 

It  so  chanced  that  Joseph  had  an  imperative  engage- 


MAGGIE  RESIGNS  195 

ment  of  long  standing,  which  summoned  him  to  Wash- 
ington about  this  time,  to  serve  as  best  man  at  the 
wedding  of  an  old  friend.  Ethel,  aware  of  the  fact, 
decided  that  her  plan  should  be  put  into  operation 
immediately  after  his  departure  on  the  train,  so  that 
some  interval  might  elapse  after  Maggie's  removal 
before  the  possibility  of  interference  on  his  part.  She 
meant  the  dismissal  of  the  girl  to  be  accomplished  in 
•such  a  manner  that  Maggie  should  be  filled  with  anger 
against  Joseph,  and  that  from  this  and  separation, 
and  other  manoeuvers  on  which  she  was  plotting,  a 
permanent  estrangement  should  develop.  .  .  .  Al- 
though she  did  not  guess  it,  her  scheming  was  assisted 
indirectly  by  Maggie  herself,  who  was  now  persistently 
refusing  to  grant  any  intimacy  to  the  head  of  the  firm. 
In  the  week  that  had  elapsed  since  the  day  when  the 
subject  of  scandal  concerning  them  was  broached,  they 
had  not  been  alone  together  once. 

In  consequence  of  the  pressure  brought  to  bear  on 
him,  Hargen,  on  the  day  set,  summoned  Maggie  to  a 
private  interview  in  his  office.  She  was  totally  un- 
suspicious of  the  impending  doom,  and  entered  the 
manager's  room  with  the  careless  grace  of  movement 
that  distinguished  her.  Her  roses  had  faded  a  little 
under  the  strain  through  which  she  had  passed,  but 
the  eyes  with  which  she  regarded  the  man  behind  the 


196  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

desk  were  still  of  the  same  wonderful  limpidity,  witH 
the  tenderness  glowing  softly  in  their  deeps,  and  the 
elusive  dimple  lurked,  half-hidden,  near  a  corner  of 
the  red,  curving  lips.  Hargen's  wan  face  stiffened  as 
he  looked  on  her  beauty.  He  admitted  freely  to  him- 
self that  she  was  lovely  enough  to  delight  any  man's 
fancy,  but  he  owed  her  a  grudge,  which  he  was  glad 
to  pay  —  since  he  must.  The  fact  that  the  victim  of 
his  niece's  plotting  was  to  be  Maggie  Pepper  formed 
the  silver  lining  to  his  cloud  of  fear  over  the  conse- 
quences. Therefore,  he  took  heart  of  grace  from 
malice,  plucked  authoritatively  at  the  wisp  of  whisker, 
and  addressed  the  buyer  impressively: 

"Miss  Pepper,  Mr.  Holbrooke  and  I  have  definitely 
decided  to  dispense  with  your  services  from  this  mo- 
ment." He  paused,  and  cleared  his  throat,  noisily, 
awaiting  any  response  from  the  girl. 

The  shock  found  Maggie  totally  unprepared.  Under 
it,  she  paled,  and  made  a  movement  of  hurt  surprise, 
to  the  great  gratification  of  the  man  watching  her. 
But,  even  in  this  moment  of  overwhelming  confusion, 
she  perceived  a  gleam  of  the  watery  eyes  that  revealed 
his  satisfaction,  and  the  sight  spurred  her  to  bravery. 
Her  voice  came  without  a  quaver,  musically  low  and 
even: 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Hargen.    I  will  go  at  once." 


MAGGIE  RESIGNS  197 

The  manager  frowned,  and  stirred  irritably  in  his 
chair.  This  air  of  quiet  dignity  on  the  girl's  part 
chagrined  him. 

"Hear  me  out,  if  you  please,  Miss  Pepper,"  he 
resumed,  with  a  tone  of  increased  seventy.  "I  wish 
you  to  understand  one  thing:  As  long  as  the  differ- 
ences between  us  involved  merely  a  question  of  busi- 
ness methods,  I  was  inclined  to  overlook  your  short- 
comings. But,  when  it  came  to  concern  the  happiness 
of  my  niece,  I  felt  it  my  duty,  for  her  sake,  to  take 
action." 

Maggie  stared  at  the  speaker,  confounded. 

"Your  niece's  happiness !"  she  gasped. 

"Precisely,"  Hargen  said,  softly.  "She,  as  you 
know,  will  shortly  become  Mr.  Holbrooke's  wife.  It 
is  in  view  of  this  fact  that  I  —  er  —  if  you  prefer  it 
that  way  —  suggest  that  you  hand  in  your  resignation. 
I  am  obliged  to  ask  this  from  you  in  justice  to  yourself, 
and  in  justice  to  us.  You  must  readily  understand  that 
your  presence  in  this  establishment,  after  the  gossip 
which  has  arisen,  has  become  quite  impossible.  In 
fact,  I  should  say  frankly  that  the  situation  which  has 
come  about  is  intolerable  both  for  Mr.  Holbrooke  and 
myself.  Incidentally,  I  may  add  that  it  is  bad  for  the 
firm,  too,  from  a  business  standpoint  —  the  notoriety, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  So,  if  you  have  a  particle 


198  MAGGIE  PEPPER 

of  regard  for  him,  you  will  be  glad  to  put  an  end  at 
once  to  a  scandal  that  outrages  all  sense  of  propriety 
and  decency." 

The  girl  had  listened  to  the  tirade  patiently,  but  with 
mounting  color. 

"You  know  what  bosh  all  the  talk  is!"  she  cried 
angrily,  as  the  manager  paused. 

Hargen  was  not  minded  to  exasperate  his  victim  too 
far,  and  he  answered  with  much  more  mildness  of 
manner. 

"Oh,  doubtless !"  he  agreed.  "Personally,  I'm  quite 
sure  that  it's  all  merely  a  mare's  nest  —  purely  imagi- 
nary on  the  part  of  the  public.  It  is  a  perfectly 
innocent  business  association,  distorted  into  a  vulgar 
scandal  by  evil  minds." 

"You've  hit  it  just  right!"  Maggie  exclaimed.  "Evil 
minds !"  the  sneer  on  her  face  shadowed  the  loveliness ; 
for  once,  her  eyes  were  wholly  cold,  with  never  a  hint 
of  any  tenderness  beneath. 

The  implication  in  her  words  goaded  Hargen  to 
retort : 

"You  are  at  liberty  to-  blame  anyone  whom  you 
please,"  he  declared.  "But  you  will  have  only  yourself 
to  blame  for  the  action  my  niece  will  be  compelled  to 
take  unless  you  go." 

"What  on  earth  have  her  actions  to  do  with  me?" 


MAGGIE  RESIGNS  199 

Maggie  demanded.  Astonishment  checked  wrath,  for 
the  moment. 

"Only  this :"  Hargen  replied,  suavely.  "If  you  do 
not  go,  she  will  immediately  break  off  the  engage- 
ment." 

"Oh !  So,  you  put  it  up  to  me,  do  you  ?"  Anger  was 
in  the  mastery  again. 

Hargen  shrugged  his  shoulders  wearily,  as  He 
nodded. 

"Vulgarly  speaking  —  yes." 

The  innuendo  against  her  form  of  speech  served  as 
the  final  straw  on  the  back  of  Maggie's  self-control. 

"Vulgarly  speaking!"  she  snapped,  so  violently  that 
the  manager  actually  jumped  in  his  chair.  "Can  any- 
thing be  more  vulgar  than  your  attitude  toward  me? 
Am  I  the  only  one  that  speaks  vulgarly  ?  Can  anything 
be  more  brutally  vulgar  than  the  suspicions  of  you  and 
your  precious  niece  ?" 

"You  are  impertinent,"  the  manager  asserted.  But 
his  utterance  was  plaintive  merely.  He  was  growing 
regretful  of  the  storm  he  had  provoked. 

"Yours  is  the  evil  mind  that  has  twisted  and  dis- 
torted a  simple  business  association  into  something 
criminal,"  Maggie  continued,  vehemently.  Her  eyes 
were  flaming  now  with  a  righteous  rage;  the  rich 
voice  thrilled  with  feeling.  "Your  sense  of  decency 


200  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

and  propriety  is  outraged  —  God  save  the  mark !  Oh, 
yes,  you,  Mr.  Hargen  —  you  are  horrified,  aren't  you  ? 
You  never  imagined  even  that  there  could  be  such 
depravity  in  the  world  —  especially  in  this  store  —  ' 
oh,  no !"  Long-forgotten  tales  of  Hargen  as  a  Lotha- 
rio among  the  employees  jumped  in  her  recollection. 
She  leaned  forward,  pointed  an  accusing  finger;  she 
was  incarnate  contempt.  .  .  .  Under  the  scourge  of 
her  words,  the  old  man  understood,  and  shriveled. 
"You  are  horrified  —  of  course!  Has  it  ever  occurred 
to  you  that  sneaking,  sanctified  hypocrisy  is  incapable 
of  seeing  anything  but  the  rotten  side  of  human 
nature  ?  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that  a  man  and  a 
woman  can  possibly  associate  together  without  leading 
an  immoral  life?  No,  it  has  not  occurred  to  you  — 
it  couldn't.  .  .  .  And  here's  my  side  of  it:  It  ain't 
decent  for  a  self-respecting  girl  to  associate  with  the 
likes  of  you.  Yes,  you'll  get  my  resignation  as  fast  as 
I  can  write  it !" 

Having  delivered  herself  in  this  tempestuous 
fashion,  Maggie  Pepper  faced  about,  and  walked  very 
haughtily  out  of  the  manager's  office,  her  head  held 
high,  defiance  written  large  in  every  line  of  her  slender 
grace,  while  the  old  man  whom  she  left  sat  huddled 
in  his  chair,  listened,  affrighted,  to  his  pounding  heart, 
wondered  if  he  would  die  then  and  there  of  shock. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

JAKE'S  PASSING 

MAGGIE  withstood  the  sudden  disaster  with  an 
equanimity  that  surprised  herself.  It  is  probable  that 
the  anger  aroused  by  Hargen  had  much  to  do  in  stimu- 
lating her  against  the  effects  of  a  blow  so  unexpected 
and  so  severe.  Instead  of  being  overcome  by  futile 
repinings  over  the  unkindness  of  fate,  the  girl  busied 
herself  immediately  with  such  preparations  as  were 
necessary  for  leaving  the  establishment,  in  which  she 
was  assisted  by  the  openly  weeping  Hattie  Murphy. 
To  her  alone  did  the  ex-buyer  make  known  the  fact  of 
her  resignation  from  the  service  of  Holbrooke  and 
Company,  and  the  keen  suffering  of  this  friend  over 
the  event  heartened  her,  despite  regret  for  being  the 
cause  of  another's  pain. 

The  few  arrangements  required  were  soon  com- 
pleted. Forthwith,  Maggie  set  out  in  quest  of  another 
position.  She  was  unsuccessful  the  first  day,  and, 
when  she  returned,  discouraged,  to  her  flat  at  night, 
she  felt  herself  yielding  to  the  inevitable  depression 

201 


202  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

induced  by  misfortune  of  the  gravest  sort.  Neverthe- 
less, she  did  her  utmost  to  conceal  the  trouble  that 
possessed  her,  for  she  had  no  wish  to  impose  her  own 
misery  on* the  child.  To  this  end,  she  assumed  as 
cheery  a  demeanor  as  her  strength  could  contrive,  and 
laughed  and  chatted  gayly,  though  she  was  very  close 
to  the  breaking  point.  She  was  able  to  carry  out  the  de- 
ception sufficiently  well  to  avoid  suspicion  on  Margie's 
part ;  but,  at  once  after  dinner,  she  made  the  excuse  of 
being  over-fatigued,  and  went  to  bed.  There,  at  last, 
she  gave  way  completely,  and  it  was  only  after  hours  of 
anguish  that  she  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep.  It  seemed 
to  the  afflicted  girl  in  this  time  of  trial  that  she  was, 
indeed,  of  all  mortals  the  one  most  cruelly  harried  by 
ill-fortune.  Her  delight  in  the  gratification  of  ambi- 
tion, which  had  come  to  her  in  her  important  position 
as  buyer,  now  by  force-  of  contrast  intensified  her 
distress.  There  was,  too,  the  responsibility  for  the 
child  to  alarm  her  with  grim  fears.  By  reason  of  the 
drain  imposed  through  the  greed  of  Darkin,  funds 
were  low,  and  delay  in  securing  another  position  would 
bring  actual  want,  not  only  for  herself,  but,  too,  for 
the  little  girl.  Another  phase  of  the  money  trouble  was 
presented  by  the  menace  of  the  blackmailer,  who,  when 
he  learned  that  he  could  hope  for  no  more  profit  from 


JAKE'S  PASSING  203 

6 
the  aunt,  would  not  scruple  to  seize  Margie  herself 

with  vilest  intent. 

Beneath  and  beyond  the  more  sordid  aspects  of  the 
evil  thrust  upon  her,  Maggie  experienced*  poignant 
torture  from  things  of  the  heart.  Already,  she  had 
faced  the  exquisite  sadness  of  yielding  her  love  where 
it  could  bring  no  return.  She  still  felt  the  darts  of 
that  grief  piercing  her  soul.  This  alone  had  been 
enough  to  make  her  wretchedness  complete?  But 
there  was  now  vastly  more.  The  vicious  scandal  by 
which  her  good  name  had  been  smirched  played  its 
part  in  the  assault  upon  her  peace  of  mind.  The 
manner  itself  of  her  dismissal  goaded  her  pride  con- 
stantly. And,  last  of  all  —  repressed  by  her  whole 
power  of  will,  hidden,  denied,  unconfessed  —  she  was 
tormented  incessantly  by  the  attitude  toward  her  of 
Joseph  Holbrooke.  Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  she 
had  bade  him  cease  the  intimacy  between' them,  she 
could  not  understand  his  aloofness  at  this  time.  In- 
deed, it  seemed  to  her  incredible  that  he  could  have 
consented  to  her  discharge  from  the  establishment  of 
which  he  was  the  head.  Though  she  would  never 
have  admitted  the  fact,  even  to  herself,  she  had 
expected  some  message  from  him,  some  word  of  help, 
or  sympathy  —  perhaps  the  supreme  comfort  of  his 
presence  with  her.  Unaware  of  his  absence  from  the 


204  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

city —  of  which  he  would  surely  have  informed  her, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  ban  imposed  by  herself  — 
Maggie  felt  that  the  defection  of  the  man  she  loved 
was  the  crown  of  wo. 

Because  she  was  of  sound  body  and  mind  and  con- 
science, even  the  brief  and  broken  slumber  at  dawn 
restored  Maggie  to  a  fair  measure  of  strength,  and 
gave  her  the  courage  to  wear  an  air  of  well-being 
which  she  did  not  feel.  She  still  refrained  from  con- 
fiding the  truth  to  Margie ;  and  went  out  at  the  usual 
time,  as  if  on  her  way  to  the  store;  although  at  the 
corner  she  turned  in  an  opposite  direction.  .  .  .  And, 
now,  as  if  Fortune  were  disposed  to  be  kinder,  having 
tested  her  courage  enough,  Maggie  found  success 
awaiting  her  at  the  first  trial.  Greenwald  and  Com- 
pany, a  firm  of  best  repute  on  the  Avenue,  were  in 
want  of  a  buyer,  who  must  start  for  Paris  straightway. 
The  pay  was  ample.  The  firm  knew  Miss  Pepper's 
work,  and  were  prompt  to  secure  her  services.  Within 
a  half-hour  after  entering,  Maggie  went  forth  hap- 
pily, secure  against  the  most  pressing,  sordid  fear.  In 
the  relief  of  that  escape,  all  the  other  troubles  shrank 
for  the  time  being.  Even  the  heart-ache  seemed  to 
lessen  a  very,  very  little.  As.  she  had  much  to  do  in 
the  way  of  shopping  before  setting  forth  for  the  ocean 
voyage,  she  gave  the  day  to  this  work,  leaving  the 


JAKE'S  PASSING  205 

breaking1  of  the  news  to  Margie  until  evening.  She 
congratulated  herself  on  having  withheld  her  confi- 
dence from  the  child,  for  now  the  information  could 
cause  only  pleasure.  She  had  been  seized  at  once  with 
the  idea  that  she  should  take  the  little  girl  to  Europe 
with  her.  By  this  means,  she  would  save  Margie  from 
peril  at  the  hands  of  Darkin,  while  securing  the  best 
of  educational  advantages.  Sheltered  in  a  convent, 
her  niece  would  enjoy  every  excellence  in  training, 
far  from  the  possibility  of  interference.  That  the  child 
would  delight  in  the  prospect  was  beyond  question. 
.  .  .  And,  for  herself,  Maggie  took  a  melancholy  satis- 
faction in  the  fact  that  she  was  soon  to  be  so  completely 
separated  from  Joseph  Holbrooke.  Since  she  might 
not  be  with  him  forever,  it  were  wiser  to  be  farthest 
afar. 

It  was  a  bustling,  radiant  Maggie  who  hurried  into 
the  flat,  to  be  welcomed  with  fond  kisses  by  the  waiting 
niece. 

"I  know  I'm  dreadfully  late,"  she  exclaimed.  "You 
don't  need  to  tell  me.  And  I  suppose  Johanna  is  having 
three  kinds  of  fits  about  the  dinner.  But  I  couldn't 
help  it,  Margie,  dearest,  and  I  have  a  real  excuse: 
We're  going  to  sail  for  Europe,  next  Saturday  morn- 
ing. Now,  what  do  you  think?" 

The  child  was  standing  rigid,  with  wide,  staring 


206  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

eyes.  For  an  instant,  she  could  not  speak  from  the 
wonder  of  the  revelation. 

"We?"  she  questioned  chokingly,  at  last.  "Do  you 
mean  —  oh,  me,  too  ?  Oh,  Auntie,  darling  Auntie !" 

"Not,  'me,  too' :  I,  also,"  Maggie  corrected  sternly, 
with  twinkling  eyes. 

"I'm  too  excited  for  grammar,"  Margie  declared, 
earnestly.  "But  is  it  true?  Are  you  really  going  to 
take  me  —  me !  —  to  Europe,  Auntie  ?" 

"Yes,  really  and  truly,"  was  the  smiling  answer. 
"And,  now,  we'll  have  dinner." 

"I  don't  want  any  dinner,"  the  child  protested, 
joyously.  "No,  I  don't.  I'm  too  excited  for  grammar 
and  dinner.  Oh,  Europe  —  the  steamer  —  the  beau- 
tiful ocean  —  o-o-oh!" 

Maggie  explained  briefly  as  to  her  changed  position ; 
but  Margie  had  no  heed  for  anything  except  the 
glorious  fact  that  she  was  soon  to  sail  away  on  the 
beautiful  ocean.  She  expressed  herself  as  content  to 
remain  in  a  convent  on  the  Continent,  for  the  purpose 
of  completing  her  education,  but  her  interest  hardly 
reached  that  far.  For  the  present,  the  sea  and  the 
steamer  demanded  all  her  happy  attention  to  them- 
selves. Everything  afterward  would  be  right  and 
pleasant,  too,  of  course  —  and  she  kissed  her  aunt 
with  enthusiasm  again  and  again. 


JAKE'S  PASSING  207 

''My  heart's  so  full  I  want  to  cry,  and  I  want  to 
laugh  all  at  once."  And,  according  to  her  desire,  so 
did  she,  with  much  spirit.  .  .  .  The  smile  which 
Maggie  kissed  was  salt  with  tears. 

It  was  when  the  dinner  was  just  done  —  of  which, 
after  all,  Margie  managed  to  eat  rather  heartily  — 
that  the  maid  presented  the  business  card  of  Mr.  Jacob 
Rothschild. 

"Now,  what  on  earth  can  the  man  want  here?" 
Maggie  demanded  indignantly  of  her  niece,  who 
aroused  herself  from  a  dream  of  dolphins  and  whales 
and  waterspouts  to  shake  her  head  uninterestedly.  "I 
suppose  he's  found  out  that  I've  gone  from  Holbrooke 
and  Company.  What's  he  up  to,  I  wonder.  .  .  .  Oh, 
well,"  she  continued,  turning  to  the  waiting  servant, 
"you  may  bring  him  in.  He's  stirred  my  curiosity," 
she  confessed  to  no  one  in  particular.  "And,  anyhow, 
it's  the  last  time  —  thank  goodness!"  She  called  to 
Margie  twice  before  she  could  interrupt  the  dreaming. 
"You  go  into  the  other  room,  dear,  until  the  gentleman 
has  gone.  He  has  only  called  on  business,  and  he's  no 
one  you'd  care  to  see." 

Maggie  deceived  herself  doubly.  Jake  was  not  come 
on  business,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  that  overworked 
word;  and  as  to  not  wanting  a  sight  of  him,  since 
the  child  had  both  excellent  esthetic  sense  and  a  lively 


208  'MAGGIE  PEPPER 

sense  of  humor,  the  spectacle  of  the  jobber  would  have 
gratified  her  immensely.  Solomon  in  all  his  glory 
most  assuredly  was  not  arrayed  like  unto  Jacob  —  not 
if  that  ancient  monarch's  wisdom  included  even  rudi- 
ments of  the  color-blending  art.  Maggie,  accustomed 
as  she  was  to  his  sartorial  crimes,  could  not  forbear  a 
smile  when  she  beheld  his  present  riotous  assembly  of 
clothes. 

Jake,  interpreting  that  smile  as  a  just  tribute,  beamed 
as  he  took  the  seat  Maggie  indicated.  The  opening 
conversation  was  concerned  with  the  recent  changes 
in  the  life  of  the  hostess.  But  no  sooner  had  he  learned 
of  the  new  position  taken  by  her  than  the  visitor 
exhibited  signs  of  strong  excitement : 

"No,  no;  you  mustn't  go  to  Paris!"  he  exclaimed. 
"When  you  hear  me,  you  won't  want  to  go.  .  .  . 
Hush!  Listen!  What?  ...  I  got  a  partnership  to 
propose."  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  complacently, 
and  ogled  Maggie  with  his  beady  black  eyes. 

The  girl  was  mystified.  So,  then,  a  partnership  was 
to  be  the  explanation  of  the  unexpected  visit. 

"But  I  haven't  any  money,  Jake,"  she  demurred. 

The  jobber  waved  his  arms  disdainfully,  so  that  the 
cuff-buttons  flaunted  their  splendors. 

"Ah,  money!"    His  tone,  for  once  in  his  life,  men- 


JAKE'S  PASSING  209 

tioned  the  word  disrespectfully.  "What's  money?  Is 
money  everything?  Hush,  now!  I  got  money." 

"Yes,  I  believe  you,"  Maggie  answered,  with  a 
yawn.  "I  know  —  the  first  dollar  you  ever  earned." 

"Boshes!"  Jake  cried,  indignantly.  "Now,  listen! 
We  open  a  store.  I  put  up  the  money.  You  are  the 
manager.  I'm  the  treasurer.  What?  Why,  the 
minute  you  left  Holbrooke's,  I  said,  'Hah!  Now,  I 
cjn  make  it  a  business.  I've  had  my  eyes  on  you  for 
five  years.  .  .  .  Holbrooke  —  bah !  He  don't  know  a 
shirt-waist  from  a  neck-tie !' ' 

"Leave  him  out  of  it,  please,"  the  girl  commanded. 
She  was  angered  by  Jake's  slurring  reference  to  the 
man  she  loved. 

But  the  jobber  misunderstood  her,  naturally  enough. 

"Aha!  Revenge  is  sweet !  What?  That's  it.  You 
show  him  how  you  are  independent.  .  .  .  And  I  got 
the  location  —  oh,  great  location !  —  option  in  my 
pocket  —  everything  ready  for  a  big  fall  opening." 
Maggie  was  persistently  shaking  her  head  to  every 
phrase;  but  Jake  was  so  accustomed  to  rebuffs  that 
he  took  no  notice.  Instead,  he  went  on  speaking  with 
bland  self-confidence.  "And  it  ain't  all  business  with 
me,  neither.  Why,  me?  I  got  a  heart  as  big  as  a 
rock."  His  smirk  was  almost  the  equal  of  Mur- 
chison's.  "And  say,  Miss  Pepper,  you  think  I'm  a 


210  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

married  man.  What  ?  Well,  there's  where  I  fool  you. 
Understand?  I  ain't  —  not  in  a  thousand  years.  I 
was,  but  I  ain't.  I'm  as  single  as  I  was  the  day  I  was 
born." 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  Maggie  snapped.  She  was 
growing  tired  of  a  curiosity  that  was  so  slow  in  finding 
satisfaction. 

"Listen!  I  tell  you,"  Jake  answered,  with  great 
earnestness.  "Here  we  come  to  the  hard  part,  Miss 
Pepper.  .  .  .  You  don't  dislike  my  religion.  What?" 

"Some  of  the  best  friends  I  have  in  the  world  are 
of  your  persuasion,"  was  the  ready  reply. 

"Yes  —  yes!  Quite  so!"  the  jobber  exclaimed, 
unctuously.  "Well,  my  dear  Miss  Pepper,  why  don't 
you  try  it?" 

Maggie's  sole  answer  was  a  stare  of  complete  aston- 
ishment. 

"That's  it,"  Jake  went  on.  "My  religion,  you  under- 
stand. Change  over.  It's  easy.  .  .  .  Then,  we  get 
married.  Ain't  that  business?"  His  conclusion  came 
in  a  triumphant  burst. 

For  the  first  time  in  the  interview,  it  occurred  to 
Maggie  that  she  was  receiving  a  proposal  of  marriage. 
Her  bewilderment  was  so  great  that  she  was  at  a  loss 
what  to  do  or  say  for  a  moment.  The  man  seemed  in 
earnest,  preposterous  as  his  hopes  were,  and  it  ill-suited 


JAKE'S  PASSING  211 

the  girl's  kindly  heart  to  wound  anyone  «eedlessly, 
much  less  one  who  came  as  a  suitor  to  her  hand.  She 
stammered  the  first  idea  she  could  seize  on,  in  order  to 
delay  the  crisis: 

"I  think  it's  more  polite  for  the  gentleman  to  change. 
What's  the  matter  with  your  changing,  Jake  ?" 

"No,  no!"  the  jobber  urged.  "I  don't  think  I'd 
look  so  well  in  any  religion  but  my  own.  It  suits  me, 
,'aid  I'm  so  used  to  it!" 

Maggie  regarded  the  man  for  a  few  seconds  with  a 
speculative  eye.  She  was  reviling  fate,  which  bestowed 
on  her  the  love  of  a  creature  such  as  this  instead  of 
the  one  she  craved  so  intensely.  The  pathos  and  the 
ignominy  of  it  struck  deep.  Then,  of  a  sudden,  she 
was  filled  with  a  sympathetic  wonder.  Was  it  possible 
that  she  had  misjudged  this  bothersome  fellow?  Did 
he,  in  all  truth,  possess  a  heart  alive  to  love?  If  so, 
he  deserved  the  respect  she  had  never  hitherto  given 
him;  and,  since  he,  too,  must  love  in  vain,  she  could 
feel  for  him  in  his  hopelessness,  despite  her  natural 
antipathy.  Her  interest  dictated  the  question: 

"Do  you  really  love  me,  Jake?" 

His  answer  disillusioned  her  wholly,  and  she  wasted 
no  more  emotion  on  this  wooer — only  amusement. 

"Say,"  the  jobber  retorted,  suspiciously,  "that's  a 
question  that  comes  close  to  being  personal.  But  I 


212  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

don't  mind  telling  you,  seeing  as  you  ask  me:  Of 
course,  I  do.  Do  you  suppose  I'd  be  willing  to  sacri- 
fice myself,  if  I  didn't?" 

"Sacrifice  yourself !"  the  girl  cried,  too  surprised  to 
feel  indignation. 

"Well,  ain't  I  been  single  forty  years?"  The  expla- 
nation came  plaintively.  It  seemed  that  he  had  for- 
gotten a  certain  married  interval. 

"Forty  years!"  Maggie  repeated,  with  open  scepti- 
cism. 

"Well,"  Jake  corrected  sulkily,  "forty-two,  if  you 
got  to  be  so  particular.  But  a  wife,  she  shouldn't  be 
so  particular." 

"Come  again!"  urged  the  girl  mockingly,  in  a  ver- 
nacular suited  to  her  auditor. 

"Forty-five,"  admitted  the  jobber,  groaning.  "And 
that's  my  last  word.  .  .  .  And  it  ain't  right  to  be  so 
businesslike.  When  two  people  talk  love,  it  ain't  to 
talk  figures.  What?  ....  Anyhow,  you  ain't  said 
nothing.  Come  now  —  what  do  you  say?" 

"I  say  that  you're  a  good  fellow,  I  suppose,  in  your 

way,  Jake,  but "  Regarding  the  appearance  of 

her  suitor  critically  once  again,  Maggie  was  moved 
to  a  ripple  of  irrepressible  larghter. 

Jake  looked  offended,  as  well  he  might. 

"Is  it  something  to  laugh  at  ?"  he  inquired,  assuming 


JAKE'S  PASSING  213 

an  air  of  injured  dignity  that  became  him  ill.  "I  tell 
you,  Miss  Pepper,  this  marriage  now,  it's  nothing  to 
laugh  at.  ...  I  want  a  serious  answer,  one  straight 
from  the  heart." 

"Straight  from  the  shoulder  will  do  as  well,"  Mag- 
gie mused.  Then,  she  spoke  aloud:  "No!" 

Jake  sniffed. 

"I  refuse  to  accept  your  offer,"  he  declared,  in  his 
most  businesslike  manner.  "I  give  you  sixty  —  no, 
ninety  —  days  to  come  to  my  terms.  When  you  think 
it  over,  you  will  see.  .  .  .  Now,  I  go." 

And  go  he  did. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
A  MOTHER'S  PENITENCE 

IT  was  on  a  beautiful  spring  morning  that  Ada 
Darkin,  while  walking  across  Central  Park,  caught 
sight  of  her  daughter,  after  months  of  separation.  It 
was  one  of  the  rare  days  —  a  day  when  life  was  stir- 
ring everywhere.  The  new  birth  was  in  the  vivid 
green  of  turf  and  leaf,  in  the  romping  birds  aloft, 
which  made  joy  vocal,  in  the  soft,  slow  pulse  of  the 
air,  in  the  greater  glory  of  the  vernal  sun,  in  the  move- 
ments of  men,  women  and  children,  who  stepped  forth 
more  alertly,  responsive  to  Nature's  surge  of  life. 
Even  Ada,  world-worn  and  weary,  felt  the  dominant 
thrill  of  the  time,  and  vague  longings  welled  impotent 
within  her  soul.  She  had  no  strength  to  fight  for  a 
new  life,  and  the  old  was  grown  hateful.  She  desired 
now  —  desired  with  an  intensity  that  was  pain  — 
under  the  impulse  of  this  perfect  day;  but  she  knew 
her  weakness,  and  remained  without  hope.  The 
splendor  of  the  season  reacted  on  her  to  make  despair 
more  dreadful. 

214 


A  MOTHER'S  PENITENCE       215 

In  this  mood  of  misery,  her  eyes  were  caught  by 
the  trim  figure  of  a  school-girl,  who  was  walking  in  a 
path  that  ran  not  far  from  her  own.  The  girl  went 
forward  with  a  lissome  grace  of  motion,  beautiful  in 
its  revelation  of  gladsome  youth  and  health.  The 
daintiness  of  her  clothing  proved  her  the  child  of  pros- 
perity. Ada,  contemplating  the  gaiety  that  character- 
ized every  movement  of  the  girl,  the  evident  happiness 
of  mood,  understood  that  here  was  the  spirit  of  the 
day  incarnate,  its  care-free  happiness,  its  youth,  its 
life.  For  a  moment,  fierce  envy  of  this  young  creature 
with  unfettered  possibilities  swept  over  the  woman. 
The  hideousness  of  the  contrast  between  such  a  one 
and  herself  filled  her  with  self-pity  hardly  to  be  borne. 
For  her,  all  the  possibilities  of  life  worth  while  were 
gone  forever.  There  remained  for  the  future  only  a 
repetition  of  the  past  —  the  Dead  Sea  apples  of  false 
pleasure,  misery,  shame. 

As  she  reached  a  bend  in  the  path,  where  it  came 
closest  to  the  other,  Ada,  still  watching  the  school-girl, 
was  struck  with  a  sudden  incredible  suspicion.  She 
peered  more  closely,  her  heart  pounding.  The  stroke 
of  lightning  conviction  fell  on  her.  Stunned  by  the 
bolt,  she  stood  immobile,  staring  with  dilated  eyes, 
until  the  girl  passed  around  a  turn  in  the  path,  and  a 
screen  of  shrubberies -hid  her  from  view. 


216  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

A  sigh  escaped  the  woman's  lips,  and  she  shuddered. 
The  revelation  of  the  girl's  identity,  which  she  could 
not  doubt,  stirred  her  to  the  uttermost  depths  of  her 
being:  for  the  school-girl  was  her  only  child,  her 
daughter,  Margaret.  The  incarnate  spirit  of  the  day 
was  of  her  own  flesh  and  blood.  She  moved  forward 
slowly,  dazedly,  walking  with  dragging  feet,  until  she 
reached  a  bench,  where  she  sank  down  apathetically. 
Her  mind  was  too  confused  for  coherent  thought  in 
the  first  effect  of  the  shock.  The  one  thought  of  which 
she  was  capable  swung  like  a  pendulum  to  and  fro 
in  tormenting  iteration:  "My  child  —  mine!" 

Presently,  she  recovered  some  measure  of  com- 
posure. From  crass  amazement,  she  passed  to  sweet 
wonder  over  this  miracle.  Profound  penitence  for  her 
own  part  toward  the  child  beat  in  her  heart.  Along 
with  it  went  a  shamed  pride  in  herself,  for,  after  all, 
she  was  the  child's  mother.  And  the  pride  made  the 
penitence  beat  more  vehemently,  since  she  had  bartered 
the  glory  of  maternity  for  husks. 

Somehow,  out  of  the  day  and  her  mood,  the  woman 
wrought  the  beginning  of  salvation.  She  did  not 
guess  it  then  —  indeed,  not  until  long  after,  but  so  it 
was.  The  mother-love,  ill-nurtured  always,  trampled 
under  foot,  despised,  yet  lived  deep  within  the  recesses 
of  her  being,  now  to  creep  upward  toward  the  light. 


A  MOTHER'S  PENITENCE       217 

She  remembered  her  dereliction  of  duty  toward  the 
child,  and  loathed  herself.  In  her  abasement,  she 
humbly  thanked  God  that  the  girl  had  gone  from  her 
control,  thus  to  be  free  of  the  contaminations  that  made 
her  own  environment.  She  was  pierced  with  anguish 
over  the  thought  that  her  daughter  was  lost  to  her, 
yet  she  was  infinitely  glad  that  it  was  so.  ...  Such 
is  the  paradox  of  motherhood.  It  had  come,  at  last, 
to  Ada  Darkin. 

She  continued  there  on  the  park  bench  for  hours, 
brooding  over  her  life,  its  round  of  follies,  always 
without  recompense.  Imagination  built  a  life's  best 
happiness  for  the  child.  This  was  her  solitary  comfort. 
.  .  .  But,  as  the  shadows  of  night  drew  about  her,  a 
new,  frightful  thought  assailed  her.  The  vision  of  the 
girl  had  been  so  radiant  that  it  had  seemed  something 
altogether  apart  from  sordid  things.  Now,  however, 
memory  flashed  her  husband's  scheming  against  the 
child.  She  remembered  how  he  had  spoken  of  his 
plans  freely  before  her,  knowing  that  she  dare  object 
to  nothing  he  might  undertake,  so  great  were  her 
weakness  of  purpose  and  her  fear  of  him.  Recollec- 
tion of  the  man's  evil  project  set  the  woman  shudder- 
ing again. 

Suddenly,  she  sprang  up,  and  set  forth,  almost 
running.  She  would  thwart  the  machinations  of  her 


218  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

husband,  whatever  the  cost  in  suffering  to  herself  that 
might  result.  Better  any  ill,  or  death  itself,  at  his 
hands  than  the  rack  of  conscience  which  would  rend 
her  incessantly  if  she  failed  in  her  duty  now.  .  .  . 
First,  she  must  hurry  home,  there  to  learn  all  she 
might  as  to  Darkin's  plotting ;  then,  she  would  seek  out 
her  sister-in-law,  to  give  warning  of  the  peril. 

So,  it  came  about  that  in  the  evening  following 
Jake's  proposal,  Maggie  was  dismayed  and  angry  to 
receive  a  call  from  Ada  Darkin.  Standing  and  facing 
the  unwelcome  visitor,  she  spoke  her  mind  emphati- 
cally : 

"When  I  got  your  pardon  through  Mrs.  Thatcher, 
you  promised  faithfully  that  you'd  never  come  to  my 
home  again.  Yet,  since  that  time,  you  and  your  hus- 
hand  have  hounded  me  for  every  dollar  I  could  rake 
and  scrape  together.  You  have  made  wretched  returns, 
Ada,  for  the  kindness  I  did  you." 

Ada  Darkin  cringed  before  the  accusation,  but  she 
showed  no  sign  of  retreat.  Maggie,  observing  closely, 
noted  with  surprise  that  the  cheeks  were  free  of  rouge, 
for  the  first  time  within  her  experience.  The  dress, 
too,  was  sedate,  unlike  the  usual  garish  garments.  The 
whole  air  of  the  woman  seemed  changed,  subdued,  yet 
more  efficient.  The  alteration  was  external  surely; 
somehow,  nevertheless,  it  seemed  significant  of  a  differ- 


A  MOTHER'S  PENITENCE      219 

ence  in  the  entire  personality.  The  fact  was  evidenced 
again  in  the  timbre  of  her  voice,  which  had  lost  its 
old-time  harsh  and  flippant  note.  Now,  it  was  gentle, 
pleading : 

"Don't  blame  me  too  severely,  Maggie,"  she  urged. 
"I  have  been  guilty  in  every  way.  The  reason  was  my 
weakness  —  and  fear :  there  never  was  an  excuse.  .  .  . 
But  don't  say  anything  more  until  you  have  heard  what 
I  have  to  tell  you.  I've  come  to  tell  you.  I've  got  the 
strength,  at  last.  I  saw  Margaret  a  few  times  when 
you  first  took  her  —  I  saw  her  again  to-day,  after 
months.  She's  not  the  same  child.  She  mustn't  go 
back  to  the  other  life  —  she  can't.  That's  why  I've 
come  to-night.  Darkin  swears  he'll  take  her  with  us 
to  Denver.  I  don't  dare  to  tell  you  what  for.  He's 
angry  because  you've  stopped  giving  him  money.  He 
wants  to  punish  you  through  her  —  and  he's  a  devil !" 
Her  voice  sank  to  a  whisper  as  she  spoke  the  words, 
learned  out  of  her  own  suffering.  "He  says  he  won't 
take  the  money  now,  even  if  you  offer  it."  Ada  was 
trembling  with  the  strength  of  her  emotions,  and  her 
eyes  burned  somberly.  There  could  be  no  doubt  as  to 
her  present  sincerity  of  purpose. 

Maggie  motioned  to  a  chair,  and  seated  herself 
alongside. 

"Go  on,"  she  commanded,  curtly. 


220  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"Oh,  it's  a  hellish  thing!"  Ada  cried.  Her  voice 
quavered ;  she  wrung  her  hands.  "There's  a  friend  of 
his  out  there,  one  of  his  own  kind  —  gambler,  crook. 
And  he  —  he's  always  been  sweet  on  Margaret."  With 
a  singular  sort  of  under-consciousness,  Maggie  was 
aware  of  the  fact  that  to-night  the  mother  called  the 
daughter  Margaret,  where  before  it  had  been  Zaza. 
Yet,  every  atom  of  her  intelligence  was  given  to  fol- 
lowing the  words  that  told  of  Margie's  peril.  She 
recalled  Darkin's  threat  now :  it  had  been  driven  from 
her  thoughts  by  the  rapid  sequence  of  events  that 
followed.  Her  soul  sickened  with  horror  as  she  heard 
Ada's  final  phrase:  "And  this  pal  wants  her,  and 
Jim  says  she's  got  to  go  to  him."  The  woman  col- 
lapsed in  her  chair,  overcome. 

But  Maggie  was  not  in  the  mood  for  mercy.  She 
regarded  Margie's  mother  with  abhorrence. 

"Bad  as  you  are,"  she  exclaimed,  and  her  voice  was 
savage,  "I  should  think  you'd  be  ashamed  —  ashamed ! 
My  God!" 

"I  am  ashamed,"  came  the  quick  answer.  The 
woman  straightened  with  new  energy,  and  met  the 
accusing  gray  eyes  firmly.  "I  am  ashamed  —  oh,  how 
ashamed !  That's  why  I've  come,  to  beg  you  to  get  her 
away  somewhere  as  soon  as  you  can.  Why,  I've 
promised  him  to  take  her  back  with  me  to-night.  That 


A  MOTHER'S  PENITENCE      221 

was  how  I  got  away  from  him  to  come  here,  at  all. 
And  I'm  more  than  ashamed :  I'm  tired  —  tired  of  it 
all.  I'm  tired  of  him,  tired  of  everything  like  him. 
If  only  I  wasn't  so  afraid,  I'd  never  go  back  to  him 
again  —  never !  .  .  .  Maggie,  you  don't  know  what 
it  is  to  be  afraid  of  a  man,  and  yet  be  compelled  to 
live  with  him  —  just  because  you  are  afraid.  It's 
horrible  —  horrible !  I've  swindled,  and  stolen,  I've  — 
I've  done  everything  for  that  man,  and  yet,  if  I  cross 
him  in  the  smallest  thing,  he  threatens  to  tell  the  police 
something  about  me  —  something  dreadful  he  has  on 
me.  .  .  .  But  he  shaVt  have  her  —  he  sha'n't !" 

"He  sha'n't!"  Maggie  echoed,  tensely.  Her  eyes 
were  fierce ;  the  red  lips  were  set  straight.  Ada  felt  a 
thrill  of  comfort  in  the  strength  and  resolution  of  the 
girl.  "I'm  going  to  take  her  out  of  the  country  —  to 
Europe.  We  sail  Saturday  morning." 

"Oh,  good  —  good !"  the  mother  exclaimed.  There 
was  a  note  of  triumph  in  her  voice.  "You  will  save 
her  from  him,  I  know !  Oh,  I  am  glad !  .  .  .  I  wish 
to  God  I  were  going  with  you,  Maggie."  There  was 
a  little  pause ;  then,  the  woman  spoke  again,  falteringly, 
slowly:  "Will  you  let  me  see  her  —  just  to  say 
good-bye?" 

Instantly,  Maggie's  manner  changed.  From  defi- 
ance, it  became  apology.  She  had  come  to  believe  in 


222  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

the  mother's  sincerity,  but  she  could  not  yet  forgive 
so  far  as  to  grant  this  boon.  Innocent,  she  judged  guilt 
severely,  as  is  the  habit  of  innocence. 

"Please,  no,"  she  said,  with  downcast  eyes.  "I  hate 
to  refuse  you,  Ada;  but  —  but  she's  beginning  to 
forget.  I  don't  want  to  bring  up  the  old  life."  She 
felt  that  the  reason  was  worse  than  the  refusal  — 
harder  for  a  mother  to  bear;  yet,  this  mother  had 
brought  it  on  herself. 

Ada  bore  her  disappointment  bravely,  in  the  spirt  of 
self-sacrifice. 

"You're  right,"  she  agreed,  simply.  "Oh,  I  know 
what  you've  done  for  her  since  I  saw  her  to-day,  happy, 
like  other  girls,  clean  and  sweet.  I  read  character  in 
her  face  —  what  I  never  had,  character!"  She  was 
silent  for  a  moment,  then  burst  forth  again,  in  tremu- 
lous fear:  "But  look  out,  or  he'll  get  her  yet.  I  tell 
you,  he's  a  devil.  When  he  sets  his  mind  en  anything, 
he  makes  out  somehow  —  always.  Look  out  for  him !" 

"Never  fear,"  Maggie  encouraged.  "I'll  take  every 
precaution.  He  won't  have  a  chance." 

"I'll  tell  him  you've  moved  from  here,  and  that  I 
couldn't  find  you.  That  may  put  him  off  for  a  little 
—  and  it  may  not."  She  stared  at  her  sister-in-law 
sorrowfully,  with  moist  eyes.  "Oh,  Maggie,"  she 
exclaimed  regretfully,  "I've  never  treated  you  right. 


A  MOTHER'S  PENITENCE       223 

That  kid  brother  of  yours  spoiled  me.  If  he'd  only 
acted  like  a  man,  beaten  me,  or  —  something !  Why, 
if  he  had,  I  might  have  gone  straight."  She  began 
crying,  quietly.  "I  hate  to  weaken,"  she  said,  brokenly, 
"but  I'm  so  wrong,  and  I've  always  been  wrong.  And, 
to-day,  when  I  saw  my  little  girl  there  in  the  park,  it 
all  came  home  to  me!" 

"There  —  there !"  Maggie's  kindly  heart  was  moved 
to  forget  its  bitterness  against  guilt,  and  the  music  of 
her  voice  was  sweet  in  the  ears  of  the  older  woman. 
"It's  all  over  and  done  with,  now.  .  .  .  Would  you 
really  like  to  say  good-bye  to  Margie?"  Thus,  she 
proved  the  reality  of  her  sympathy. 

In  an  instant,  the  mist  of  tears  vanished  before  the 
sunshine  of  happiness  on  the  woman's  face.  Her  eyes 
wandered  expectantly.  Maggie  called,  and,  after  a 
moment,  the  child  appeared  from  the  adjoining  room. 
At  sight  of  her  mother,  she  stood  stock-still,  completely 
at  a  loss.  Finally,  she  advanced  a  few  steps  timidly, 
while  her  mother  and  aunt  sat  silent,  equally  ill  at  ease. 
Then,  she  halted  again,  and  spoke  in  candid  confusion : 

"I  don't  know  —  what  to  say.  .  .  .  How's  —  how's 
Mr.  Darkin?" 

"Very  well,  thank  you,"  Ada  answered  quickly,  with 
formal  politeness.  But  natural  feeling  rushed  in  her 
next  utterance,  which  was  to  Maggie  —  to  all  the 


224  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

universe,  so  great  was  her  delight :  "Doesn't  she  look 
fine?  Doesn't  she  —  oh,  doesn't  she?" 

"Aunt  Margaret  has  done  so  much!"  Margie  mur- 
mured. 

"Certainly,  I  never  did  anything,"  the  mother  de- 
clared, her  voice  suddenly  bitter  in  humiliation.  "It 
was  up  to  me  to  do  it,  and  I  didn't.  When  I  look  at 
you,  my  shame  seems  greater  than  I  can  bear;  I  feel 
so  helpless,  so  hopeless!  God  bless  your  Aunt  Mar- 
garet. If  someone  had  taken  me  in  hand  at  your  age, 
I'd  have  been  a  different  woman.  .  .  .  Oh,  if  I  didn't 
have  to  go  back  to  him !  I  hate  the  very  thought  of  it !" 

Maggie  cried  out  sharply  : 

"Well,  why  do  you  go  back  to  him?"  The  steady 
questioning  in  the  warm  eyes,  now  all  tenderness  and 
sympathy,  set  the  woman  trembling. 

"But  I  must,"  she  answered,  feebly.  "He  — he 
expects  me." 

Maggie  leaned  far  forward,  so  that  her  face  was 
close  to  that  of  the  other  woman ;  there  was  contempt 
in  her  voice,  with  overtones  of  pity : 

"That's  just  the  trouble  with  you,  Ada.  Someone 
expects  you  to  do  a  thing,  and  you  obey  anyone  — 
except  yourself.  You  have  no  will  —  not  the  least 
bit  in  the  world.  Now,  suppose  you  obey  me  a  little. 
Listen!  Leave  this  man,  Darkin.  If  you're  really  in 


'  I'M  GOING  TO  TRY  AND  MAKE  MYSELF  WORTHY  OF  YOU  BOTH. 


A  MOTHER'S  PENITENCE       22$ 

earnest  about  being  sorry  and  everything,  I'll  help  you. 
So  will  Mrs.  Thatcher,  and  so  will  Margie." 

"Yes!"  the  child  cried,  with  an  enthusiasm  thai- 
showed  her  love  for  the  mother  was  not  all  dead.  The 
single  word  was  a  wine  of  strength  to  the  woman's 
courage. 

"You  will?"  she  questioned,  incredulous. 

"I  certainly  will,"  Maggie  affirmed;  "we  will  —  all 
of  us!" 

The  promise  gave  stamina.  Ada  sprang  to  her  feet, 
and  the  rougeless  cheeks  were  crimson;  she  held  her 
head  erect ;  her  gaze  was  bright  with  daring. 

"I'll  do  it !"  She  spoke  softly,  reverently.  She  was 
turning  from  hell  toward  heaven.  "I'll  do  it  —  I'll  do 
it!" 

Maggie,  because  she  was  unable  to  look  beneath  the 
surface,  had  recourse  to  the  stimulus  of  a  sneer  to 
brace  resolve: 

"You'll  weaken  before  you  get  to  the  street-corner, 
was  her  rudely  flung  gibe. 

Ada  made  answer  meekly,  but  with  profound 
seriousness : 

"No,  I  won't.  You'll  see.  Maggie,  I'm  going  to 
do  it,  if  it's  the  last  act  of  my  life.  I'm  going  to  try 
and  make  myself  worthy  of  you  both." 

Margie,  who  had  been  standing  still,  looking  on  the 


226  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

scene  with  absorbed  attention,  now  interrupted,  clap- 
ping her  hands  gleefully : 

"Oh,  Auntie,"  she  cried,  "can't  we  take  her  with  us  ?" 

Maggie  regarded  the  child  in  blank  amazement,  not 
unmingled  with  consternation  at  the  audacity  of  the 
idea.  But  Ada  seized  on  it  with  avidity.  Notwith- 
standing her  newly  acquired  courage,  there  was  an 
infinity  of  relief  in  the  anticipation  of  a  few  thousand 
miles  distance  between  her  and  James  Darkin. 

"Europe!"  she  breathed.  "Why,  I'll  go  in  the 
steerage.  I'll  go  as  your  maid.  Let  me  wait  on  you 
—  both.  Anything  to  make  good,  and  to  get  away 
from  him  —  anything,  Maggie!  It's  my  one  chance. 
If  I  stay  in  this  country,  he'll  find  me,  and  make  me  go 
back  to  him.  I  know  him!  It's  up  to  you  now, 
Maggie,  whether  I'm  to  go  back  to  him,  or  not."  She 
fell  silent,  gazing  wistfully  at  the  arbiter  of  her  destiny. 

Margie  added : 

"She  means  it,  Auntie  —  I  know  she  does." 

"I  must  think  it  over,"  Maggie  replied,  doubtfully. 
"It's  an  experiment,  of  course  —  an  awfully  long  shot, 

too.  .  .  .  But,  perhaps "    There  was  yielding  in 

the  voice. 

Ada  bowed  her  head  in  thanksgiving.  When  she 
spoke,  her  tones  were  resonant  of  a  holy  gladness  — 
the  gladness  of  the  penitent  who  knows  redemption. 

"Oh,  thank  God!" 


CHAPTER   XIX 

EXPLOSION  ! 

JOSEPH,  immediately  on  his  return  from  Washing- 
ton, discovered  the  fact  that  Maggie  had  left  the 
service  of  Holbrooke  and  Company.  He  was  furious 
at  the  news.  He  felt  that  the  most  sacred  things  of 
friendship  had  been  trampled  on  ruthlessly  by  some- 
one :  he  would  make  it  his  business  to  find  out  by  whom 
without  an  instant  of  delay.  Moreover,  his  obligations 
to  the  blood,  his  duty  to  the  ancestors,  on  account  of 
which  he  had  plunged  into  mercantile  activities,  had 
been  largely  nullified  by  the  departure  of  the  one 
person  responsible  for  his  success.  Noblesse  oblige 
demanded  that  he  find  Miss  Pepper  and  set  things 
straight  at  once.  Joseph  went  no  farther  in  his  reason- 
ing, nor  was  there  need  of  more:  here  was  enough. 
Of  course,  the  question  of  love  was  not  in  any  way 
involved. 

But  the  young  man  found  difficulties  in  the  path  of 
accomplishment.  When  he  interviewed  Hargen,  that 
wily  gentleman  made  it  clear  that  Miss  Pepper  had 

227 


228  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

resigned  in  order  to  accept  a  more  advantageous  offer 
from  Greenwald  and  Company.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  the  manager  praised  the  former  buyer,  her 
personal  worth,  her  value  to  Holbrooke  and  Company. 
He  fondled  a  whisker  sadly,  and  regretted  the  great 
loss  sustained  by  the  firm  in  her  leaving  it.  Joseph, 
who  at  the  outset  had  been  sure  that  Hargen  was 
guilty  in  the  matter,  was  first  placated  and  then  con- 
vinced as  to  the  manager's  part.  The  written  resig- 
nation, which  he  inspected,  seemed  to  substantiate  the 
old  man's  account.  He  remembered  the  girl's  decree 
that  all  intimacy  between  them  must  cease,  and  her 
subsequent  conduct  appeared  almost  inevitable.  He 
began  to  believe  that  the  scandal  had  driven  Maggie 
to  this  course  in  self-defense,  that  thus  there  might 
be  no  additional  justification  of  gossip.  In  the  end,  he 
decided  that  he  ought  to  respect  her  wishes.  It 
required  great  self-denial  on  his  part,  but  he  resisted 
the  temptation  to  visit  her  at  once.  To  do  so,  he  knew, 
would  be  the  one  thing  unjustifiable  according  to  her 
standard  of  conduct,  since  it  would  only  give  new 
excuse  for  scandal-mongering.  It  seemed  to  him, 
indeed,  that  the  condition  of  affairs  was  hateful  beyond 
measure,  but  that  it  must  be  borne.  Such  was  the 
sacrifice  demanded  for  friendship's  sake. 

Joseph  went  his  ways  now  in  a  loneliness  that  was 


EXPLOSION!  229 

well-night  intolerable.  He  visited  Ethel  dutifully  — 
it  had  come  about  that  all  life  was  one  tedious  duty  — 
but  he  found  no  consolations  in  her  beautiful  presence. 
Idly,  he  wondered  why.  It  occurred  to  him  that  he  was 
not  getting  his  fair  share  of  love's  raptures.  Suddenly, 
the  shocking  idea  leaped  in  his  brain  that  friendship 
was  infinitely  better  than  love.  At  least,  he  found  it 
so  —  better  in  every  way,  satisfying  to  the  whole 
nature  of  a  man.  But  the  knowledge  that  had  dawned 
in  his  heart  not  long  before,  still  shone  forth  very 
dimly.  For  only  a  single  instant  did  he  see  love  and 
friendship  one.  The  look  that  had  been  once  in 
Maggie's  eyes  lived  again  in  memory  —  a  look  domi- 
nant, subtle,  sorrow-laden,  joyous  —  a  look  to  wonder 
over,  to  long  for,  to  die  for  if  need  be.  ...  Joseph 
strove  bravely  to  put  memory  and  knowledge  away 
from  him,  for  he  was  a  loyal  gentleman,  and  he  had 
plighted  his  troth  to  Ethel  Hargen.  To  comfort  him- 
self with  the  sense  of  duty  well  done,  which  seemed  the 
sole  consolation  left  to  him,  he  straightway  stopped 
in  at  the  Hargen  mansion  for  a  cup  of  tea  with  his 
fiance. 

The  girl  welcomed  him  tenderly.  In  a  black  gown 
that  showed  the  pliant  graces  of  her  form  and  served 
to  emphasize  the  delicate  ivory  complexion  of  the  face, 
she  was  lovely  enough  to  make  any  lover  content. 


230  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

Joseph  judicially  admitted  this  truth,  and  waited  for 
comfort  from  her  radiant  presence.  It  did  not  come. 
The  fact  disturbed  him  mightily.  In  his  dismay,  he 
reasoned  more  subtly  than  was  his  custom.  Since  he 
got  no  content  of  her,  he  was  not  her  lover.  From 
his  own  premises,  the  conclusion  was  inevitable. 
There  could,  in  truth,  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  exact 
situation:  He  was  not  her  lover.  He  had  suspected 
as  much  —  he  had  even  known  it,  but  only  furtively. 
He  had  driven  the  idea  from  him  by  dogged  will- 
power. Now,  however,  there  was  no  gainsaying  the 
truth.  She  was  all  that  she  had  ever  been,  more 
beautiful,  indeed,  than  when  he  had  felt  his  first 
infatuation  for  her.  As  he  studied  her  appearance 
critically,  he  was  forced  to  confess  that  he  could  find 
no  flaw,  either  in  person  or  mind  or  manner.  He  did 
not  concern  himself  with  her  morals  —  he  took  them 
for  granted,  a  course  that  is  often  more  convenient  than 
prudent.  But,  despite  her  feminine  worth,  he  realized 
that  she  bored  him  to  extinction.  He  had  no  least  bit 
of  interest  in  her.  What  she  said,  or  thought  or  did, 
was  unspeakably  trivial  to  him  —  or  worse,  offensive. 
The  sum  of  it  all  amounted  to  this:  she  was  not  the 
right  woman.  If  any  evidence  had  been  needed  further, 
it  was  ready  to  hand  in  the  fact  that  he  knew  perfectly 
well,  though  he  would  not  confess,  who  the  right 


EXPLOSION!  231 

woman  was.  ...  At  this  point  in  his  meditations, 
Joseph  groaned  aloud. 

"Good  gracious,  Joe!"  Ethel  exclaimed,  astonished 
and  alarmed.  He  had  been  sitting  apparently  so  atten- 
tive to  her  account  of  the  way  a  chief  rival  used  art  to  eke 
out  nature  in  the  matter  of  complexion  and  form  that 
she  was  genuinely  concerned  over  the  interruption.  It 
flashed  on  her  how  dreadful  it  would  be  were  he  to  die 
just  now,  before  their  marriage.  "Are  you  in  awful 
pain  ?  Where  is  it  ?  Shall  I  telephone  for  a  doctor  ?" 

Joseph  shook  his  head,  shamefacedly. 

"It's  nothing,  really  —  it's  gone  now.  It's  a  twinge 
I've  had  often." 

Ethel  was  fondly  solicitous.  Her  sympathy  was  so 
compelling  that  Joseph,  becoming  penitent  for  his 
feeling  toward  her,  assumed  an  air  of  briskness,  which 
had  recently  been  lacking  on  his  part  during  their  in- 
terviews. The  girl  gathered  confidence  from  the 
welcome  change,  and  took  the  opportunity  to  discuss 
the  marriage  he  had  just  attended.  She  was  impelled 
to  the  topic  by  a  lively  hope  that  it  would  spur  the 
laggard  lover  on  to  thinking  of  a  time  for  their  own 
nuptials.  Alas!  it  had  no  such  effect.  She  wore  the 
theme  threadbare,  while  Joseph  assisted  to  the  best 
of  his  ability;  but  he  resisted  the  lure,  either  of  intent 
or  stupidity  —  Ethel  could  not  be  sure  which.  The 


232  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

failure  fretted  the  girl.  The  threatening  red  glowed 
softly  beneath  the  pallor  of  the  cheeks,  and  there  was 
a  concealed  tenseness  in  her  pose.  Joseph,  if  he 
observed  the  signals,  was  unable  to  interpret  the  por- 
tents. Gradually,  his  artificial  vivacity  died  away, 
until  his  entire  attention  was  again  centered  on  his 
private  miseries.  Ethel,  keenly  observant,  perceived 
his  abstraction  now,  guessed  its  cause,  and  it  set  her 
raging  secretly.  It  was  useless  for  her  to  seek  satis- 
faction in  the  man's  evident  wretchedness  as  he  sat 
silent  before  her  on  the  ground  that  it  proved  the 
victory  of  her  machinations.  After  all,  there  was  small 
gratification  in  knowing  that  her  plottings  were  of 
avail  as  compared  with  that  other  woman's  for  the 
man  before  her,  when  he  had  no  longer  a  liking  for  her 
charms.  Mrs.  Thatcher  had  been  right  in  supposing 
that  Ethel,  scorned,  would  act  up  to  the  poetic  sugges- 
tion. She  had  already  done  her  best  in  that  direction 
by  causing  the  dismissal  of  her  rival  and  the  separation 
from  Joseph.  At  least,  she  judged  that  the  separation 
had  been  accomplished  effectually,  since  his  bearing 
was  so  utterly  forlorn.  Such  success,  grateful  as 
might  otherwise  have  been,  was  impotent  to  soothe 
as  she  beheld  the  man's  insulting  indifference  to  her- 
self. The  wound  to  her  pride  and  self-love  goaded 
the  passionate  girl  almost  to  frenzy.  She  tried  her 


EXPLOSION!  233 

best  to  keep  shut  the  flood-gates  of  wrath,  but  the  task 
was  beyond  her  strength.  Dangerous  as  she  knew 
the  subject  to  be  at  this  time  when  his  feelings  were 
acute,  she  yet  ventured  upon  it,  despite  reason  and  will. 

"Miss  Pepper  has  left  her  position,"  she  said, 
abruptly.  Her  voice  was  a  little  strained,  but  there 
was  no  other  particular  evidence  of  emotion.  "Uncle 
told  me." 

"Yes,"  Joseph  answered,  in  a  lifeless  tone.  He 
winced  perceptibly,  however,  and  the  sight  served  still 
further  to  inflame  the  girl. 

'The  scandal  will  die  down  now,"  she  suggested. 
"There  will  be  an  end  to  the  gossip,  since  she's  out  of 
your  way." 

"It's  of  her  own  choice,"  Joseph  said,  wearily. 

"But "  He  broke  off,  afraid  to  reveal  too  much 

of  his  emotion  if  he  spoke  another  word  just  then. 

"Of  her  own  choice !"  Ethel  repeated.  There  was  a 
world  of  sarcastic  meaning  in  her  utterance  —  a  hint 
of  vengeance  triumphant. 

Joseph  darted  a  glance  at  the  girl,  and  the  aspect  of 
her  reinforced  the  effect  of  her  words  on  him.  Usually, 
he  was  not  given  to  fine  discriminations.  He  was 
inclined  to  take  things  at  their  face  value,  as  the 
simplest,  and,  usually,  the  best  way.  In  this  instance, 
however,  his  mind  was  strung  to  exceptional  discern- 


234  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

ment.  Though  still  unknowing,  he  loved  at  last  with  his 
whole  being,  a  love  of  heart  and  mind  and  soul  and 
strength.  It  was  because  of  this  love  that  he  was  now 
suffering.  More,  the  woman  whom  he  loved  was 
gripped  by  the  like  anguish,  if  he  had  read  aright  the 
memory  of  one  look  in  her  eyes.  The  chief  thing  in 
the  universe  was  Maggie's  happiness.  .  .  .  Had  the 
girl  there  before  him  done  aught  to  afflict  this  other 
whom  she  had  openly  detested?  His  brain  worked 
easily,  with  subtle  suspicions.  Ethel  had  sought  to 
have  Maggie  removed  from  her  position:  she  had 
failed  in  the  attempt.  The  fact  showed  her  animus 
clearly.  But  had  she  failed,  after  all?  Joseph  sud- 
denly realized  that  the  departure  of  the  buyer  had 
taken  place  during  his  absence  from  the  city.  True, 
he  had  seen  her  resignation ;  he  had  accepted  as  suffi- 
cient for  it  the  girl's  wish  that  the  intimacy  between 
her  and  him  should  be  discontinued.  Was  that  the 
right  explanation  of  her  resignation  ?  Had  there  been 
something  else,  some  other  cause,  sinister  and  secret  — 
the  clue  to  which  lay  beneath  Ethel's  scornful  repeti- 
tion of  his  own  words? 

Joseph  stooped  to  trickery  —  something  he  had 
never  done  before  with  man  or  woman,  for  his  prime 
virtue  was  honesty.  He  stared  accusingly,  wherein 


EXPLOSION!  235 

he  was  honest  enough.  But  he  went  farther :  he  put 
his  accusation  explicitly  in  words,  and  in  doing  so  he 
lied  baldly: 

"Yes,  of  her  own  choice !"  he  exclaimed  bitterly,  in 
his  turn.  There  was  no  under-note  of  exultation  in 
his  tones,  as  there  had  been  in  hers.  On  the  contrary, 
there  was  lively  disgust,  which  gave  point  to  the  accu- 
sation that  followed:  "Your  uncle  owned  up  to  the 
whole  thing  when  I  got  him  cornered.  I  know  exactly 
what  it  means  when  I  refer  to  her  own  clioice."  He 
waited  in  mortal  suspense.  He  had  drawn  his  bow  at 
a  venture.  What  would  the  issue  be?  ...  He  was 
not  left  long  in  doubt. 

A  moment,  the  girl  opposite  him  sat  aghast.  His 
manner  deceived  her  completely.  She  made  no  ques- 
tion that  he  knew  everything,  as  he  had  said.  He  had 
suspected  somehow,  he  had  frightened  that  old  dotard, 
her  uncle,  he  had  drawn  out  the  truth,  he  was  perfectly 
aware  of  her  participation  in  the  plot  —  her  uncle 
would  have  laid  the  whole  blame  on  her  for  his  own 
safety's  sake.  Yes,  this  lover  of  hers,  who  loved 
another  woman  more,  had  come  to  her  now  for  the 
pleasure  of  playing  with  her,  flouting  her.  It  was 
intolerable.  She  would  give  him  to  understand! 
She .  .  .  All  restraints  failed :  On  the  instant, 


236  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

the  flood-gates  were  lifted,  and  the  waves  of  wrath 
worked  their  will. 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  Joseph  went  forth  from  the 
Hargen  mansion.  Varied  emotions  seethed  hotly  in 
his  breast.  One  fact  only  stood  out  in  relief  from  the 
turmoil:  Whatever  the  issue  of  events  otherwise,  he 
would  never  marry  Ethel  Harg-en.  He  had  told  her 
so :  she  had  refused  to  release  him ;  he  had  persisted : 
she  had  threatened.  The  threats  disturbed  him,  but 
not  enough  to  overcome  a  profound  thankfulness  for 
this  revelation  by  which  he  had  been  saved  from  taking 
her  to  wife.  He  shuddered  at  the  bare  idea  of  marriage 
with  one  such  as  she  had  shown  herself,  stripped  naked 
of  all  veneer  by  rage.  He  could  have  pardoned  much 
to  one  merely  carried  out  of  herself  by  anger :  he  could 
never  forgive  Ethel,  never  respect  the  nature  her  wrath 
had  uncovered.  It  was  not  the  flurry  of  a  passing 
storm  in  her  case :  it  was  the  glimpsing  of  the  char- 
acter that  hid  under  artifice.  So,  he  thanked  God 
that  his  eyes  had  been  opened  ere  yet  it  was  too  late. 
Before  him,  trouble  loomed  large  for  himself,  and  — 
what  was  immeasurably  worse — for  that  other  woman. 
Yet,  he  was  mindful  of  the  mercy  that  had  been 
vouchsafed  him  by  a  margin  so  narrow.  His  escape 
from  a  fatal  mistake  gave  him  new  courage  to  face  the 
ills  to  come. 


EXPLOSION!  237 

"First  of  all,  she  must  know,"  he  muttered  as  he 
swung  on  a  passing  car. 

It  was  thus  that,  for  the  first  time,  Joseph  set  out 
to  visit  Maggie  Pepper  in  her  home. 


CHAPTER  XX 

LOVERS  AT  ODDS 

IT  was  with  a  tremendous  effort  that  Maggie 
retained  her  poise  when,  soon  after  the  departure  of 
Ada,  Joseph  Holbrooke  was  ushered  into  her  presence. 
All  the  hurt  bewilderment  over  his  attitude  toward 
her  vanished  in  the  magic  of  his  being  there  before 
her.  If  he  had  possessed  the  knowledge  of  his  own 
heart  and  a  courage  sufficient  to  sweep  her  into  his 
arms  at  the  moment  of  entrance,  she  would  have 
nestled  there,  content,  asking  no  question  of  fate.  But 
he  was  still  hesitant,  ignorant  of  the  vital  truth,  and, 
too,  timorous,  afraid  to  startle  her  by  any  overt  action. 
Out  of  his  weakness,  she  plucked  strength,  so  that, 
after  the  first  brief  confusion,  she  had  full  mastery  of 
herself  and  of  the  situation.  She  invited  him  to  a 
chair,  and  took  another  at  a  little  distance  in  a  manner 
sufficiently  natural  to  tantalize  his  eagerness,  who  was 
all  agog  to  make  known  his  news,  yet  lacked  the 
courage  to  command.  It  was  much  to  his  credit,  how- 
ever, that  he  wasted  no  time  in  preambles. 

238 


LOVERS  AT  ODDS  239 

"It's  all  off!"  he  declared  abruptly,  after  the  formal 
greetings  had  been  exchanged.  He  did  not  bother  with 
any  reference  to  Maggie's  dismissal  from  the  employ 
of  the  firm  —  time  enough  in  the  future  to  talk  of 
that. 

"All  off?"  the  girl  repeated,  astonished  and  bewil- 
dered by  both  his  words  and  manner.  "What  is  all 
off?" 

"My  engagement  to  Ethel  Hargen  is  broken  off  — 
marriage  postponed  indefinitely.  That's  done  with, 
thank  heaven !"  His  tone  was  fervent. 

Maggie  uttered  an  ejaculation.  The  news  stunned 
her  for  the  moment.  She  could  not  tell  as  yet  whether 
she  were  glad  or  sorry. 

"You've  broken  off  your  engagement  with  Miss 
Hargen?"  she  murmured,  confusedly. 

"Yes,"  Joseph  said.  There  was  a  trace  of  satis- 
faction in  his  tone  that  increased  the  listener's 
bewilderment. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Holbrooke!"  Maggie  cried,  with  a  note 
of  genuine  commiseration  in  her  voice. 

But  the  young  man  was  not  minded  to  have  sympa- 
thy in  this  direction,  and  he  hastened  to  make  the 
fact  apparent  by  his  next  utterance,  which  was  deliv- 
ered with  an  air  of  truculence. 

"And,  what's  more,  I'm  glad  of  it !" 


24o  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"Oh,  no,  you're  not,"  came  the  spirited  retort  "She 
loves  you  —  and  you  love  her !" 

"Do  I?"  Joseph  questioned.  There  was  a  certain 
wistfulness  in  his  phrasing  of  the  question.  "You  see, 
that's  just  the  question." 

"Why,  of  course  you  do,"  the  girl  declared,  with 
much  animation.  The  strength  of  her  feeling  toward 
him  made  necessary  a  vigorous  plea  in  order  to  con- 
ceal what  was  in  her  heart.  "You've  told  me  so  dozens 
of  times  —  yes,  indeed,  dozens  of  times !"  The  repeti- 
tion was  as  much  as  she  could  contrive  for  her  part 
in  the  dialogue  just  then.  But,  after  a  moment,  she 
had  herself  well  in  hand  again,  and  spoke  with  a 
manner  half-petulant,  in  rebuke:  "Oh,  dear!  And 
it's  all  about  nothing  —  nothing !" 

Joseph  regarded  the  girl  with  extreme  gloominess 
of  countenance.  This  was  not  at  all  what  he  had 
expected.  He  had  anticipated  trouble  in  abundance, 
but  not  of  this  sort.  His  eyes  took  in  the  slender 
grace  of  her  form,  the  daintiness  of  the  beautiful  face, 
so  richly  crowned,  the  warm  splendor  of  the  eyes, 
now  all  a-sparkle  with  excitement,  the  rose  color  rising 
and  falling  on  the  white  satin  of  her  cheeks,  the  red 
sweetness  of  her  lips,  the  dimple  that  vanished  only  to 
reappear.  He  realized  the  fascination  of  her  as  never 
before.  .  .  .  And  she  had  just  said  that  all  this  fuss 


LOVERS  AT  ODDS  241 

was  about  nothing!  Her  aloofness  from  him  was 
appalling,  when  their  interests  were  so  closely  in  touch. 

"About  nothing!"  he  repeated,  gruffly.  "On  the 
contrary,  it's  about  you." 

"Well,  it  amounts  to  the  same  thing,"  Maggie 
retorted,  flippantly.  But  she  dropped  her  eyes  as  she 
spoke.  The  directness  of  his  statement  found  her  at 
a  loss.  She  evaded  the  issue  artfully.  "All  you'll 
have  to  do,"  she  continued  airily,  still  without  looking 
at  him,  "is  to  write  her  a  nice  letter  of  apology — just 
beg  her  forgiveness,  you  know,  and  send  it  to  her 
immediately.  I'm  sure  you  were  in  the  wrong,  what- 
ever the  trouble  was.  But,  when  you've  done  as  you 
should,  she'll  forgive  you." 

Her  persistence  in  this  attitude  exasperated  the 
young  man. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  forgiven,  thank  you,"  he 
snapped.  "Besides,  I'm  the  offended  party." 

"Oh,  yes,  naturally,"  was  the  easy  answer.  "But 
you're  a  man.  Now,  please,  don't  make  a  lot  of  ex- 
cuses, but  just  do  as  I  tell  you."  Her  tone  was  so 
dictatorial  that  Joseph  smiled  grimly. 

"Is  that  the  way  you  talk  to  your  boss?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"You're  not  my  boss,"  Maggie  replied,  with  em- 
phasis. At  last,  she  met  his  eyes  fairly. 


242  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"That's  so,"  he  admitted,  regretfully.  "You've  left 
—  and  that's  why  I  did  it :  because  you  left.  Now,  if 

you'll  come  back "  His  whole  manner  was 

suddenly  grown  beseeching,  to  such  an  extent,  indeed, 
that  it  vaguely  alarmed  the  girl. 

"No,  no,  I  can't !  I've  taken  another  position,"  she 
faltered,  with  traces  of  discomposure.  "But,  now, 
please,  you  must  really  go  home,  and  write  that  letter." 

Joseph  shook  his  head  vehemently. 

"No,"  he  declared,  emphatically.  "It  took  some 
courage  on  my  part  to  break  it  off  as  I  did."  He  would 
have  liked  to  explain  somewhat  in  detail  just  what  a 
demon  of  rage  had  confronted  him  in  that  interview, 
but  a  sense  of  chivalry  prevented  him.  "It  would  take 
more  courage  to  put  it  together  again,"  he  added, 
"You  must  understand  that  the  thing  is  ended  and 
done  forever,  Margaret."  It  was  the  first  time  that  he 
had  thus  addressed  her  by  name,  and  she  thrilled  with 
the  joy  of  it,  though  she  betrayed  nothing  of  her 
emotion  visibly.  "The  marriage  is  not  to  be.  There  is 
no  other  way  out.  She  said  things  not  to  be  borne  by 
any  man  who  respects  himself.  I  can't  tell  you  more 
than  that.  That  of  itself  would  have  been  enough. 
But  there  was  plenty  besides.  Don't  make  a  jest  of  it, 
Margaret."  Again  her  name.  He  spoke  it  easily,  as 
if  he  thought  of  her  so.  Gladness  came  a  second  time 


LOVERS  AT  ODDS  243 

in  the  listener's  breast.  She  was  strangely  perplexed 
now,  a  little  frightened  perhaps  —  she  was  not  quite 
sure.  "She  —  she  said  things  about  you  —  things  I 
could  never  forgive." 

"Oh,  never  mind  about  me,"  the  girl  contended,  with 
a  fine  show  of  disdain. 

"But  I  do  mind  about  you,  Margaret,"  Joseph  cried, 
and  there  was  deep  feeling  in  his  voice.  "I  must! 
That's  what  troubles  me  so  much.  You  see,  she's  a 
jealous,  vindictive  woman.  I  don't  wish  to  abuse  her, 
but  I  must  make  you  understand,  somehow.  She  con- 
trived to  get  you  discharged  by  her  uncle  during  my 
absence  in  Washington.  I  only  returned  to-day.  I 
found  that  you  had  gone.  I  was  all  upset,  naturally  — 
after  all  I  owe  you,  too.  I  supposed  at  first  that  you 
had  done  it  in  order  to  keep  away  from  me.  That's 
why  I  didn't  get  here  sooner,"  he  concluded,  simply. 
Maggie's  soul  delighted  in  the  explanation  of  the  thing 
that  had  so  troubled  her.  "Then,  finally,"  Joseph  went 
on  doggedly,  "I  got  the  truth  out  of  her.  She  was 
hysterical  with  rage.  She  told  more  than  she  meant 
to  —  she  couldn't  stop,  she  was  so  angry.  And  what 
she  said  —  good  God !  No,  there  can  never  be  any  talk 
of  marriage  between  her  and  me  —  unless  it's  in  the 
courts.  .  .  .  And  that  brings  me  to  what's  really  the 
matter.  Do  you  know  what  she  says  she'll  do  ?"  The 


244  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

girl  shook  her  head,  wonderingly.  She  saw  dimly  the 
menacing  figure  of  Ethel  bearing  down  on  her  with  a 
brandished  dagger.  "Well,  she  says  she'll  sue  me  — 
bring  an  action  in  the  courts  for  breach  of  promise." 
He  fell  silent  for  a  little,  staring  at  Maggie  intently, 
awaiting  some  comment  from  her.  But  there  was  none 
forthcoming.  She  could  only  sit  mute,  bewildered  at 
this  latest  disclosure,  so  minatory,  so  sinister. 

"And  she's  going  to  do  that,"  Joseph  went  on  inex- 
orably, "just  for  the  express  purpose  of  bringing  you 
into  the  case,  as  the  —  the  chief  cause."  He  hesitated, 
and  his  color  rose.  To  Maggie,  it  seemed  that  her 
heart  had  ceased  beating,  for  she  understood  in  some 
measure  at  least  the  shame  involved  by  such  an  accu- 
sation against  a  woman's  fair  repute.  "She  wants  to 
brand  you  openly  before  the  whole  world,"  Joseph 
stated  explicitly;  "and  she  means  to  do  it,  at  whatever 
cost.  She  told  me  so,  and  that's  what  has  made  me 
turn  against  her  absolutely."  Suddenly,  the  man  aban- 
doned the  self-control  that  had  characterized  his  speech 
thus  far.  "Margaret,"  he  went  on,  with  a  manner  of 
profound  seriousness,  "I'm  ashamed  of  myself.  It  was 
my  fault  from  the  beginning.  .  .  .  And  I'm  —  I'm 
going  to  do  the  right  thing  by  you." 

Maggie  interposed,  hastily.  There  was  a  hint  of 
hauteur  in  her  voice,  as  she  spoke : 


LOVERS  AT  ODDS  245 

"You  have  done  the  right  thing  by  me,  Mr.  Hol- 
brooke. As  for  that,  why,  I'm  of  age,  and  I  believe 
I  can  take  care  of  myself.  I  think,  too,  that,  when 
people  don't  do  the  right  thing  by  me,  it's  really  some- 
how my  own  fault." 

But  her  manner  of  assumed  indifference  had  no 
effect  on  Joseph. 

"It's  all  my  fault,"  he  declared.  "I've  brought  the 
whole  ghastly  business  on  you.  God !  When  I  realize 
what  an  awful  scandal  it  will  be,  and  all  because  of  me, 
I  could  curse  myself  —  kill  myself,  if  that  would  be  of 
any  use.  Oh,  you  don't  understand,  at  all.  I  feel  that 
you  should  know  —  be  prepared,  though  it's  horrible  to 
talk  about  —  and  to  you,  of  all  persons  in  the  world, 

the  woman  I "  He  halted  abruptly,  as  if  amazed 

over  his  own  thought.  The  roses  in  Maggie's  cheeks 
deepened  their  hue.  His  voice  was  very  low,  as  he 
continued  speaking.  "You  can't  realize  the  scandal 
of  it  all.  And  I'm  to  blame.  Yes,  I  am !  If  I'd  only 
told  them  from  the  start  that  you  were  my  —  my  — 
confidential  adviser,  it  would  have  been  different.  But 
you  insisted  on  my  leaving  your  name  out,  and  on  my 
taking  all  the  credit  to  myself.  So,  now,  I'm  the  Na- 
poleon and  so  forth,  while  you're  the  notorious " 

He  broke  off  miserably,  and  stared  despairingly. 


246  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

Maggie  rallied  the  remnants  of  her  strength,  and 
spoke  as  nonchalantly  as  she  could  contrive: 

"Well,  why  don't  you  say  it  ?" 

Joseph  continued  speaking,  as  if  he  had  not  heard : 

"If  she  sues,  there'll  be  a  fine  scandal.  Hargen  says 
he  has  a  hundred  witnesses.  It  seems  she  has  been 
considering  this  course  of  action,  for  she  told  me  that 
her  lawyer  declared  my  reputation's  so  bad  he  could 
win  the  suit  without  any  witnesses  at  all.  She  says 
that  she  wants  vindication." 

"Well,  in  a  way,  I  think  she's  right,"  Maggie  de- 
clared, magnanimously. 

Joseph  stared  at  her  in  amazement. 

"I  didn't  think  you'd  side  against  me,"  he  said,  re- 
proachfully. 

But  Maggie's  thoughts  had  suddenly  veered  to 
another  aspect  of  the  situation. 

"Don't  you  think  it  was  a  great  mistake  for  you  to 
come  here  at  all?"  she  demanded,  suddenly. 

"No,"  Joseph  declared,  with  a  stubborn  frown.  "I 
wanted  to  see  you,  so  I  came  —  I  had  to.  I'm  going 
to  do  the  right  thing,  Margaret." 

The  girl,  in  turn,  drew  her  brows  down  a  little, 
disturbed  by  his  persistence. 

"You  must  make  it  all  right  with  her,  first  of  all," 
she  said. 


LOVERS  AT  ODDS  247 

Joseph  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  denial. 

"Why,"  he  burst  forth,  "I  think  more  of  your  little 
finger  than  I  do  of  her  whole  hand.  .  .  .  And  there's 
only  one  thing  to  do.  She's  going  to  sue  me  —  well, 
I'll  give  her  something  to  sue  for.  ..." 

"Oh,  will  you,  indeed!"  Margaret  exclaimed,  in- 
dignantly. 

But  the  young  man  went  on  without  heed  for  her 
remonstrance : 

"Yes.  Do  you  realize  that  you  —  that  you've 
become  a  part  of  my  life?  We've  been  together  for 
months,  day  after  day,  in  the  bonds  of  friendship  and 
sympathy.  We  trust  each  other,  know  each  other  — 
love  each  other  —  Margaret !" 

"Mr.  Holbrooke,"  the  girl  protested,  sharply.  She 
was  swept  by  fear  lest  she  had  given  him  license  for 
indiscretion,  which  he  would  regret.  She  chose  now 
to  rebuke  him  for  that  use  of  her  name  which  had  so 
delighted  her.  "Kindly  call  me  Miss  Pepper,  just  as  a 
mark  of  respect  —  even  if  you  don't  feel  it." 

"But  I  do  feel  it,"  Joseph  retorted,  stoutly.  "I  feel 

more  than  respect.  I  feel Oh,  in  spite  of  my 

reputation,  I'm  not  a  great  hand  at  love-making  — 
that  is,  not  of  the  mushy  sort.  .  .  .  You  know  what 
I  mean." 

"No,  I  don't  know,"  was  the  confused  answer.    "I've 


248  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

had  very,  very  little  love  made  to  me  of  the  mushy 
or  any  other  sort." 

"Am  I  the  first?"  came  the  eager  question.  There 
was  a  smile  of  triumph  on  the  man's  face. 

"The  first?"  Maggie  repeated,  with  a  puzzled  air, 
in  order  to  conceal  the  extent  of  her  emotion  at  his 
words. 

"Yes,"  Joseph  insisted.  "Tell  me,  please:  Am  I 
the  first  to  offer  you  my  —  my " 

But  his  faltering  words  were  summarily  interrupted 
by  the  girl,  who  spoke  with  a  curtness  designed  to 
discourage  eloquence.  It  seemed  to  her  necessary  that 
she  should  check  him  at  whatever  cost,  and  she  believed 
that  a  lightness  of  manner  would  best  serve  her  pur- 
pose. So,  now,  she  let  a  mocking  smile  play  on  her 
lips,  and  her  voice  was  whimsically  reproachful.  Her 
whole  manner  was  half-maternal,  half-bantering,  as  if. 
she  were  scolding  a  refractory  child : 

"Mr.  Holbrooke,"  she  said,  "suppose  you  go  home 
and  go  to  bed.  That  will  be  the  best  thing  for  you  to 
do  to-night  Then,  you  can  get  up  bright  and  early 
in  the  morning  to-morrow,  and  dictate  all  these  pretty 
speeches  to  your  stenographer.  The  next  thing  will 
be  to  put  them  away  very  carefully  in  your  desk,  and 
lock  them  up.  Leave  them  there  to  simmer  for  — 
oh,  I  think  six  months  would  be  about  the  right  length 


LOVERS  AT  ODDS  249 

of  time.  So,  half  a  year  from  now,  if  you  happen  to 
remember  about  them,  you  can  get  them  out,  and  look 
them  over,  and  then,  if  you  still  have  a  mind  to,  you 
can  send  them  on  to  me." 

Joseph  listened  to  her  raillery  with  an  expression  of 
profound  dejection. 

"You  won't  take  me  seriously,  eh?"  he  demanded, 
when,  at  last,  she  came  to  a  pause.  As  the  girl  made 
no  reply,  he  went  on,  speaking  earnestly:  "Don't  you 
understand?  This  is  nothing  to  be  laughed  away. 
You're  going  to  be  publicly  accused  of  the  very  worst. 
Can  you  see  your  name  in  the  big  type,  your  picture  in 
the  evening  papers?"  There  fell  a  short  silence,  in 
which  Maggie  sat  with  her  eyes  downcast,  while  the 
man  regarded  her  dismally.  Finally,  he  spoke  again, 
and  now  his  voice  was  very,  very  low,  tremulous  with 
feeling:  "I  want  to  save  your  good  name,  Margaret." 

"Well,  how  do  you  propose  to  do  it?"  Maggie  in- 
quired, coldly. 

"By  making  you  my  wife,"  was  the  instant  answer. 
His  voice  rang  more  firmly  now. 

A  great  sigh  broke  from  the  girl's  lips. 

"Your  wife!"  She  breathed  the  words  reverently, 
rapture  surging  suddenly  in  her  heart. 

"Of  course,"  Joseph  said,  bewildered  by  the  change 


250  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

wrought  so  swiftly  in  her.  "Why,  what  did  you  think 
I  meant?  .  .  .  But  tell  me!" 

Again,  there  was  silence  between  them,  while  he 
gazed  anxiously  on  the  face  that  was  by  turns  dis- 
tressed and  glad.  It  was  a  full  minute  before  the  girl 
finally  brought  herself  to  the  point  where  she  could 
speak  with  a  fair  degree  of  calmness.  Her  words 
made  clear  the  perplexity  that  had  seized  her. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  —  I  didn't  think  you  meant  any- 
thing, exactly.  I "  Maggie  broke  down.  She 

could  not  translate  her  heart  in  this  moment.  Then, 
without  warning,  perplexity  gave  place  to  dread.  It 
was  borne  in  on  her  that,  after  all,  he  did  not  really 
love  her,  as  she  loved  him.  Rather,  was  he  not  acting 
in  this  fashion  merely  from  a  chivalrous  sense  of  duty 
toward  the  woman  whom  his  actions  had  compro- 
mised? The  thought  was  horrible,  indeed;  yet  it 
seemed  to  be  plain  from  the  words  he  had  used  to  her. 
He  had  spoken  of  "doing  the  right  thing"  by  her  — 
only  that!  It  had  not  been  the  passionate  love  for 
which  she  so  longed  that  had  driven  him  on  to  offer 
marriage.  The  idea  was  unendurable,  yet  she  must 
know  the  truth,  whatever  the  cost  of  anguish  to  her 
heart.  At  once,  she  found  her  voice  again : 

"You  said  so  many  things  that  —  well,  I  did  think 
you  were  just  talking.  So,  I  guess  now,  you  just  want 


LOWERS  AT  ODDS 

to  marry  me  because  —  because  you're  willing  to 
sacrifice  yourself,  just  to  save  me.  ...  I  —  like  you, 
you  know  that.  I  have  always  liked  you,  from  the 
very  first  moment  I  saw  you,  there  in  the  store.  I've 
liked  you  —  better  than  any  other  man  I've  ever 
known.  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  how  much  you  —  your 
friendship  has  been  to  me!  Perhaps,  if  things  were 

different,  I  might But  I  care  too  much  for  you 

to  let  you  throw  yourself  away  from  a  sense  of  chivalry 
—  let  you  ruin  your  happiness  because  you've  quar- 
reled with  the  woman  you  love !" 

Joseph  cried  out  in  anger  at  her  words. 

"The  woman  I  love!"  he  repeated,  significantly. 
"You  know  who  she  is,  Margaret.  I'm  quarreling 
with  the  woman  I  love  at  this  very  moment.  Don't 
you  know  that?"  He  stared  at  her  accusingly  for  a 
few  seconds,  but  she  would  not  meet  his  eyes.  "Don't 
trifle  with  me,"  he  continued,  sternly.  "And  you  love 
me,  I  think.  .  .  .  I've  seen  it  in  your  eyes  —  once!" 

One  instant,  Maggie  yielded  to  the  delight  of  believ- 
ing his  protestations  at  their  surface  worth. 

"Oh,  I  —  I  —  can't  get  over  it !"  she  exclaimed,  half- 
hysterically,  between  laughter  and  tears.  "Oh,  this 
moment  is  worth  having  lived  for!"  Then,  of  a 
sudden,  all  her  doubt  returned,  sweeping  her,  as  if  it 
had  been  a  tidal  wave,  back  to  despair.  Now,  she 


252  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

courageously  accepted  the  challenge  in  the  suitor's  final 
utterance.  Her  head  was  lifted  proudly.  The  limpid 
eyes  met  his  squarely,  though  a-gleam  with  a  tender- 
ness that  was  like  a  caress.  "Well,  then,"  she  an- 
nounced defiantly,  "suppose  I  admit  it,  suppose  I 
confess  that  I  love  you  —  what  then?" 

"What  then?"  Joseph  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  face 
all  alight  with  joyousness,  drew  her  to  his  breast, 
pressed  his  lips  to  her  cheek.  "What  then?"  he  re- 
peated, triumphantly.  "Why,  then,  we'll  marry  and 
live  happy  ever  after,  sweetheart." 

The  girl  lay  quiet  within  his  arms,  her  heart  throb- 
bing exquisite  measures  —  for  a  matter  of  seconds 
only.  Then,  swiftly,  she  withdrew  from  his  embrace, 
and  sedately  seated  herself  again.  Mistaken,  Joseph 
let  her  go,  yielded  her  up  with  infinite  reluctance, 
although  even  yet  he  did  not  fully  understand  the 
nature  of  the  pang  that  pierced  his  heart  as  he  loosened 
his  arms  from  her.  Yet,  despite  his  reluctance  in  the 
act,  he  let  her  go  —  he  did  it  for  her  sake,  from  a  sense 
of  delicacy  that  was  to  his  credit.  None  the  less,  it 
was  most  cruel  to  her,  for  it  convinced  her  that  he  had 
in  truth  been  driven  to  this  avowal  by  chivalry,  not 
by  love,  as  was  the  fact  in  a  measure  —  but  in  a 
measure  only,  not  in  its  entirety.  Afterward,  he  stood 
before  her,  and  pleaded  his  suit  in  vain.  To  his  every 


LOVERS  AT  ODDS  253 

argument,  she  had  only  the  one  answer :  that  she  would 
not  marry  him.  She  was  stricken  sore  over  the  renun- 
ciation, but  her  love  gave  strength  to  persist  in  self- 
sacrifice. 

She  could  not  believe  in  the  reality  of  the  love  he 
offered.  Because  he  could  not  yet  read  his  own  heart' 
aright,  it  was  not  permitted  to  her  instinct  to  guess 
the  truth.  She  told  him  baldly  that  she  would  not  take 
advantage  of  his  generosity  in  the  way  he  suggested. 

Joseph  argued  futilely. 

"Generosity?"  he  stormed.  "I  tell  you,  it  isn't 
generosity.  I  love  you."  Abruptly,  he  resorted  to 
imagination  to  carry  his  point:  "Why,  I've  tested 
myself  in  a  dozen  ways,  and  I  know."  Then,  still 
again,  he  reverted  to  the  statement  that  gave  the  girl 
her  strength  to  refuse:  "Besides,  it's  my  duty!  I 
want  to  do  the  right  thing,  and  I  will !" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  quite  understand,"  Maggie  agreed, 
wearily.  "Of  course,  it's  your  duty.  I  suppose,  too, 
it's  my  bounden  duty  to  marry  you,  quite  irrespective 
of  any  question  as  to  whether  I  love  you  or  not,  just 
because  a  lot  of  scandal-mongers  suspect  the  very  worst 
of  us." 

"To  protect  your  good  name,  Margaret !"  the  young 
man  pleaded. 

Maggie  gave  rein  for  a  moment  to  temper,  for  she 


254  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

had  been  sorely  tried,  and  the  discussion  strained  every 
nerve.  She  was  righting  against  her  own  heart  as  well 
as  his  strength  of  purpose. 

"I  haven't  any  good  name,"  she  declared,  in  despera- 
tion. "And  if  there  is  a  shred  of  reputation  left  to 
me,  it  will  take  care  of  itself.  I  know  what  I  am,  and 
those  that  know  me  know  what  I  am.  After  all,  the 
others  don't  really  matter.  .  .  .  You've  done  your 
duty,  Mr.  Holbrooke.  As  to  that,  you've  done  more 
than  your  duty.  There  isn't  one  man  in  a  thousand 
would  have  done  as  much,  and  I  —  I  respect  you  for 
it,  more,  far  more,  than  I  can  say.  But " 

"But,  just  the  same,  you  decline  my  offer." 

"Yes,"  Maggie  admitted.  The  single  word  was  as 
authoritative  as  any  decree  issued  by  a  sovereign. 

But  the  disappointment  was  beginning  to  fret  the 
usually  placid  good  nature  of  the  young  man.  Even 
now,  he  did  not  realize  the  extent  to  which  the  best 
feeling  of  his  heart  was  involved  in  this  matter,  but 
he  was  growing  weary  of  being  thwarted  in  his 
purpose  thus  persistently.  His  vein  of  obstinacy  was 
aroused,  and  it  led  him  to  extravagance  in  the  argu- 
ment which  he  next  advanced. 

"Do  you  know,  Margaret,"  he  exclaimed  suddenly, 
with  vibrant  reproach  in  his  voice,  "you've  deceived  me 


LOVERS  AT  ODDS  255 

abominably  ?  You  led  me  to  believe  that  you  loved  me, 
and  now " 

The  girl  interrupted  him  in  hurt  surprise. 

"I  —  I  deceived  you !"  she  exclaimed,  indignantly. 
"How,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"Why,  you've  said  things  dozens  of  times,"  Joseph 
maintained,  stubbornly,  if  vaguely.  His  brain  sought 
for  convincing  details.  "You've  told  me  again  and 
again,  'Oh,  how  I  love  to  work !'  —  meaning,  for  me ; 
'How  I  love  to  be  here !'  —  meaning,  with  me ;  'Oh, 
how  I  love  this  place !'  —  my  place.  It  was  love,  love 
—  love,  all  the  time.  .  .  .  And  neither  of  us  knew  it." 

Suddenly,  a  great  illumination  filled  the  conscious- 
ness of  Joseph  Holbrooke.  He  had  been  driven  on  by 
desire  of  doing  the  right  thing,  as  he  had  averred,  and 
Maggie  had  recognized;  he  had  been  spurred  to  en- 
deavor, too,  by  the  arousing  of  a  streak  of  obstinacy 
that  was  strong  in  his  nature ;  he  had  acted  throughout 
with  no  appreciation  of  the  heart-need  that  was  his. 
Only  now,  when  his  ingenuity  had  brought  him  to  use 
argument  in  which  he  had  not  believed  himself  ere  it 
was  uttered,  did  he,  in  a  lightning-flash,  come  to  know 
the  most  vital  fact  of  his  being :  that  he  loved  this  girl 
there  before  him  with  the  final,  masterful  passion  of 
his  maturity.  He  had  guessed  vaguely  that  she  might 
love  him:  now,  in  a  wonderful,  glorious  instant  of 


256  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

revelation,  he  knew  that  he  loved  her.  Whether  for 
happiness,  or  for  misery,  he  loved  her.  That  was  the 
one  tremendous  fact,  the  greatest  thing  that  had  come 
to  him  in  his  life.  Perforce,  he  was  silent,  contemplat- 
ing the  mightiness  of  this  truth  that  concerned  the 
very  essence  of  his  being.  Hitherto,  he  had  followed 
a  boyish  infatuation  for  another  woman,  Ethel,  until 
it  had  become  a  habit  from  which  he  could  only 
escape  by  violent  wrench.  That  wrench  had  come  now. 
In  the  severity  of  this  struggle,  to  which  he  had  been 
led  primarily  by  a  desire  to  set  right  a  wrong  due 
to  his  own  carelessness  in  conduct  toward  another 
woman,  he  had  been  compelled  to  recognize  the  change 
worked  in  his  own  heart.  He  perceived,  with  a  cer- 
tainty beyond  cavil,  that  this  girl  whom  he  had  thought 
merely  a  friend,  was,  in  reality,  the  mistress  of  his 
heart.  The  knowledge  stunned  him,  filled  him  with 
reverential  amazement.  He  was  moved  beyond  the 
power  of  words  just  then.  .  .  .  Suddenly,  he  was 
aroused  from  a  trance  of  wonder  by  hearing  Maggie 
speaking,  and  he  listened,  curiously  interested,  but  in 
no  wise  convinced. 

It  was  evident  that  the  girl  had  decided  to  bring 
the  interview  to  a  close.  She  voiced  herself  with  an 
assumed  nonchalance  that  might  have  served  its  pur- 


LOVERS  AT  ODDS  257 

pose,  had  it  not  been  for  the  new  knowledge  born 
in  the  man  whom  she  addressed. 

"Now,  listen  to  me,  Joe,"  she  said,  in  a  casual  tone. 
"I'm  going  to  call  you  'Joe,'  because  you're  a  bully 
good  fellow,  and  I  appreciate  all  it  means  —  your 
coming  here  in  this  way,  to  make  things  right.  I  do 
think  the  world  of  you,  but,  you  see,  I  can't  take  you 
at  your  word."  Maggie's  heart  was  near  to  breaking, 
but  she  continued  with  an  air  of  lightness  that  was 
inimitable.  "You  see,  Joe,  I've  got  to  set  that  girl  in 
there  —  Margie  —  an  example.  And,  if  I  took  you 
away  from  another  woman,  she'd  have  no  faith  in  me. 
...  Go  back  to  Miss  Hargen.  .  .  .  Yes,  you  must!" 
It  was  frightful  to  utter  the  command,  but  she  spoke 
the  words  without  a  hint  of  faltering. 

Joseph  listened,  patiently.  Now,  at  last,  he  realized 
the  fault  that  had  been  his  when  he  spoke  of  duty 
toward  this  woman  whom  he  loved  devotedly.  For  the 
moment,  he  could  contrive  no  words  by  which  to  make 
clear  the  error  into  which  he  had  fallen  —  that  error 
by  which  he  had  been  led  to  speak  of  duty  in  connection 
with  love  for  this  adorable  creature.  He  had  been 
wrong  in  all  his  plea  to  her.  He  had  been  guilty  of 
an  insult  by  letting  her  believe  that  he  haJ  come  to 
her  merely  from  a  sense  of  duty.  Now,  how  should 
he  correct  the  error?  How  must  he  set  forth  to  her 


258  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

the  true  feeling  of  his  heart?  How  could  he  make 
her  know  the  truth  that  was  the  one  thing  in  the  world 
most  important  to  him?  .  .  .  He  hated  himself  for 
that  ignorance,  so  inexcusable,  so  incredible,  which  had 
led  him  to  urge  her  from  a  mistaken  chivalry.  He 
should  have  known  his  own  heart.  He  should  have 
told  her  the  truth.  Now,  he  must  do  so,  but  his  own 
fault  had  made  the  task  hard,  very  hard.  He  must 
make  this  girl  understand  that  he  sought  her,  not  for 
the  satisfaction  of  a  chivalrous  impulse,  but  for  the 
gratification  of  his  heart's  desire. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

BY   FORCE   OF   ARMS 

THE  interview  between  the  lovers  was  interrupted 
by  a  ringing  of  the  door-bell,  followed  by  sounds  of 
commotion  in  the  passage.  A  moment  later,  Ada 
Darkin  rushed  into  the  parlor,  in  a  state  of  extreme 
agitation.  As  Maggie  and  Joseph  turned,  startled,  she 
hurried  toward  her  sister-in-law,  with  outstretched 
hands.  Fear  was  in  the  face,  in  the  shaking  voice : 

"Oh,  Margaret!  Margaret!  Jim's  following  me. 
Don't  let  him  in!  Have  the  door  locked."  She  was 
panting,  and  paused  for  a  moment  to  take  a  long 
breath.  But,  before  a  question  could  be  asked,  she 
went  on  speaking  rapidly,  under  the  impulse  of  terror : 
"He's  following  me,  I  tell  you.  He  found  out  I'm 
going  to  leave  him,  going  away.  He's  crazy  about  it. 
He  got  the  truth  out  of  me,  somehow.  He  struck  me, 
and  I  had  —  to  tell  him.  He  threatens  awful  things 
if  we  don't  both  of  us  —  Margie  and  me  —  go  West 
with  him  to-night.  .  .  .  And  he's  following  me  — 
he'll  be  here  in  a  minute.  Keep  him  out !"  The  con- 
cluding sentence  was  a  wail  of  fright 

259 


260  MAGGIE  fEPPER 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  Maggie  said,  soothingly.  A  vein 
of  contempt  for  the  woman's  cowardice  ran  in  her 
sympathy.  "Probably,  he's  only  trying  to  frighten  you 
into  doing  what  he  wants.  I'll  manage  him,  all  right." 
A  sudden  thought  caused  her  to  face  Joseph.  "You 
must  go  right  away,"  she  directed.  "If  there's  to  be 
any  trouble  here,  you  mustn't  be  mixed  up  in  it  —  you 
understand  that." 

Joseph  shook  his  head,  in  vigorous  refusal. 

"If,  by  any  chance,  this  Jim  is  the  chap  that  called 
on  you  at  the  store  the  other  day,  I  think  I'd  better 
g|ay  right  here.  I  might  come  in  useful." 

"No,  no!"  Maggie  protested;  but  she  gave  the 
speaker  a  grateful  glance.  "It's  the  man,  but  you'd  be 
in  the  way.  You  must  go." 

At  this  moment,  the  door-bell  sounded  a  second 
time,  a  long,  insistent  ring.  Ada  shrieked  at  the  sound, 
and  sank  into  a  chair,  half-fainting. 

"There  he  is !"  she  shrilled.  "Don't  let  him  in !  Oh, 
I'm  so  afraid !"  She  turned  imploring  eyes  on  Joseph. 
"Oh,  don't  go,  sir,"  she  begged.  "He's  dangerous  — 
dangerous !" 

"Then,  I  shall  most  certainly  stay,"  was  the  answer. 
The  young  man  turned  to  Maggie,  with  an  apologetic 
smile.  "You  see,  my  dear,  I  really  have  no  choice. 
Personally,  I  should  be  glad  of  an  excuse  for  handling 


BY  FORCfe  OF  ARMS  261 

the  fellow  roughly  —  I  didn't  like  his  looks  the  other 
day.  An  old  half-back  doesn't  mind  a  scrimmage,  you 
know."  As  Maggie  still  shook  her  head,  he  continued 
peremptorily:  "If  you  won't  let  me  stay,  I'll  send  a 
policeman." 

"Good  God!  Not  that!"  Ada  cried  out  in  new 
alarm.  She  stood  up,  tottering.  "Don't  let  the  police 
mix  in  this." 

"It's  too  late  for  me  to  go  now,"  Joseph  declared, 
for  the  caller  was  speaking  to  the  servant  in  the  pas- 
sage. 

"Then,  get  into  the  back  room  here  —  quick!" 
Maggie  commanded.  "And,  whatever  happens,  don't 
show  yourself.  There's  been  scandal  enough  about  us. 
.  .  .  You  ought  never  to  have  come  here."  She 
whirled  on  the  hysterical,  cowering  Ada.  "You,  too! 
In  with  you  both !"  She  fairly  pushed  the  two  out  of 
the  parlor,  and  shut  the  door  behind  them.  She  had 
had  barely  time  to  seat  herself,  holding  a  magazine  as 
if  reading  it,  when  Darkin  swaggered  into  the  room,  in 
advance  of  the  protesting  maid-servant. 

"You  may  go,  Johanna,"  Maggie  said,  quietly, 
although  her  heart  was  beating  double,  for  Ossa  was 
being  piled  on  Pelion  in  the  way  of  excitement  to-night. 
She  waited  until  the  maid  had  disappeared.  Then, 
she  looked  directly  toward  Darkin,  who  had  stood  in 


262  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

the  doorway  sullenly  silent,  somewhat  abashed  by 
the  girl's  coolness.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  intimidating 
women :  it  was  part  of  his  stock-in-trade.  "How  dare 
you  come  here?"  she  demanded.  Her  gray  eyes  were 
undaunted,  challenging. 

But  Darkin  was  not  one  to  be  repulsed  easily. 
Maggie's  manner  of  disdain  failed  to  disturb  him  in 
the  least.  He  sneered,  and  blustered : 

"I  want  my  wife  —  that's  what  I  want  And  I  want 
her  quick!  Do  you  get  me?" 

"You  can't  have  her,"  the  girl  declared,  stoutly. 
"She's  where  you  can't  reach  her.  She's  through  with 
you,  for  good  and  all.  And,  now,  you  get  out  of  here 
at  once,  or  I'll  set  the  police  on  you  for  breaking  into 
my  apartment  in  this  way." 

"Oh,  you  will  —  will  you?"  Darkin  retorted,  with  a 
malignant  scowl.  .  .  .  Now,  just  you  listen  to  me, 
sweetheart  — •  it's  for  your  own  good,  and  no  merry 
jest.  My  wife  came  in  here,  and  she  hasn't  gone  out. 
I'm  wise,  all  right.  Damn  you,  you  little  cat !  You've 
been  doing  a  neat  job,  breaking  up  my  home,  haven't 
you?  First,  you  grab  my  daughter;  now,  you've  in- 
fluenced my  wife  to  quit  me.  Well,  I'm  going  to  queer 
your  game,  right  now." 

"I  took  my  niece  from  you  because  you're  not  fit  to 


BY  FORCE  OF  ARMS  263 

have  charge  of  her,"  Maggie  stated,  boldly.  "As  for 
your  wife,  she's  of  age,  and  she's " 

Darkin  interrupted,  with  a  burst  of  brutal  laughter. 

"Why,  she's  just  as  good  as  you  are,"  he  exclaimed ; 
"and  she's  no  good  at  all.  You're  a  fine  one  to  talk, 
you  are !  A  peach  of  an  example  you're  setting  young 
innocence,  your  niece,  Zaza  —  living  openly  with  this 
man,  Holbrooke!"  There  came  another  volley  of 
mocking,  ribald  laughter. 

Maggie  sprang  up  from  her  chair,  her  face  crimson, 
her  eyes  ablaze.  She  moved  close  to  Darkin,  with 
clenched  fists  raised,  as  if  she  would  strike  him  down 
for  the  insult. 

"That's  a  lie !"  she  cried,  fiercely.  "You  know  it  — 
a  dirty  lie,  you  brute !" 

Darkin  grinned  evilly  at  the  outraged  girl.  He  was 
enjoying  himself  just  then.  His  nature  found  delight 
in  provoking  such  suffering  wantonly.  This  young 
woman  had  ventured  to  interfere  with  him :  she  must 
be  punished.  Now,  instead  of  recoiling  before  the 
girl's  fury,  he  merely  glanced  about  the  parlor  in  con- 
temptuous appraisal. 

"He  might  do  a  little  better  than  this  for  you.  I 
always  thought  he  was  a  piker!"  He  shifted  his  gaze 
unconcernedly  toward  Maggie,  who  was  choking  with 
wrath.  "Where's  Zaza?"  he  inquired,  curtly. 


264  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"Out  of  our  reach!"  The  tones  were  husky,  but 
there  was  no  weakening  in  them. 

"Don't  you  get  me  r'iled  up,"  Darkin  warned.  "I 
don't  want  to  be  harsh  with  a  lady  —  oh,  no!"  A 
savage  leer  gave  emphasis  to  the  speech.  "To  save  you 
the  trouble  of  more  lying,  I  guess  I'll  look  around  a 
little.  I'm  awful  worried  about  my  wife  —  she  can't 
bear  to  be  separated  from  me  a  minute,  poor  critter !" 
Smirking  over  his  idea  of  humor,  he  started  toward 
the  door  of  the  back  room. 

"There's  nobody  there!"  Maggie  cried,  desperately. 
Instinct  drove  her  to  interpose  herself  in  his  path. 

Darkin  halted,  and  surveyed  his  opponent  sardoni- 
cally. 

"What's  the  use  of  your  taking  so  much  trouble,  if 
there's  nobody  in  there  ?  Get  out  of  the  way,  darling ! 
I  tell  you,  I'm  going  in,  and  that's  flat.  .  .  .  My  wife 
and  the  kid  are  in  there  —  I  know,  you  fool.  Get  out 
of  the  way,  before  it's  worse  for  you." 

"Oh,  for  your  own  sake,  don't  go !"  Maggie  pleaded, 
frantically.  "Yes,  there  is  somebody  there  —  some- 
body that'll  break  you  in  pieces." 

"Hell !"  the  man  growled.  "Do  you  think  you  can 
scare  Jim  Darkin  off?  Scat!  Out  of  my  way!" 

"For  God's  sake,  don't  go  into  that  room !"  Maggie 
breathed.  Despair  was  on  her  face. 


BY  FORCE  OF  ARMS  265 

Darkin,  however,  paid  not  the  least  heed  to  her 
plea.  Instead,  as  he  came  to  her,  and  still  she  did 
not  move,  he  seized  her  shoulders,  swung  her  about  in 
spite  of  her  resistance,  and  shoved  her  violently  across 
the  room.  The  impetus  was  so  great  that  she  went 
staggering,  then,  with  a  shriek  of  fear,  fell  headlong 
on  the  sofa.  She  was  half-swooning  from  the  strain 
she  had  undergone,  but  her  brain  was  clear  enough  to 
see  and  to  hear  what  followed.  She  could  not  stir 
from  her  place  or  scream  —  could  only  gaze  and  hear, 
affrightedly. 

She  saw  the  door  of  the  back  room  swing  open  just 
when  Darkin's  hand  reached  for  the  knob,  and  a  body 
shoot  forth.  Afterward,  there  was  only  the  swirling 
confusion  of  the  two  men,  who,  at  grips,  fought  up 
and  down  the  narrow  space  of  the  parlor,  without 
word  or  cry  from  either.  An  age  it  seemed,  before 
the  better  brawn  and  skill  of  Joseph  triumphed,  and  he 
brought  Darkin  crashing  down  in  a  corner.  It  was 
then,  while  the  younger  man  gave  his  enemy  a  deserved 
punishment,  that  Maggie  beheld  something  so  dread- 
ful as  to  hold  her  frozer  with  horror.  She  would  have 
given  her  life  for  the  power  to  scream  a  warning,  but 
•  she  could  not.  Still  fast  in  helplessness,  she  watched  the 
hand  that  rose  behind  Joseph's  back,  in  which  was  a 


266  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

blue  glint  of  steel.  The  report  of  the  weapon  broke 
on  her  ears  like  the  crack  of  doom.  In  the  same  in- 
stant, she  saw  the  form  of  Joseph  sway  slightly,  and 
topple  to  the  floor.  .  .  .  Then,  she  lost  consciousness. 


THE   PERSISTENT   INVALID 

IT  was  only  a  matter  of  seconds  until  Maggie  again 
became  aware  of  what  was  going  on  about  her.  As  her 
eyes  unclosed,  and  her  brain  cleared,  she  first  took 
cognizance  of  Ada  Darkin,  whose  white  face  was 
framed  by  the  doorway  of  the  back  room.  From  over 
the  woman's  shoulder,  Margie  peered,  her  cheeks 
flushed  with  excitement,  her  eyes  like  stars.  The  maid- 
servant stood  behind  these  two,  staring  timidly.  Mag- 
gie, from  her  position  on  the  sofa  faced  the  three,  and 
for  a  moment  wondered  as  to  the  nature  of  the  object 
on  which  they  had  their  gaze  focused.  She  turned  a 
little,  following  the  direction  in  which  they  looked, 
and,  at  the  sight,  memory  poured  back  in  a  flood. 
With  a  stifled  cry  of  agony,  she  threw  herself  forward, 
without  troubling  to  rise,  and  crouched  on  her  knees 
by  the  side  of  the  man  she  loved.  She  raised  his  head 
gently,  pillowing  it  on  her  knees.  She  crooned  over 
the  still  form  as  a  mother  over  a  sleeping  child.  Her 
lips  rested  on  his.  In  this  hour,  he  was  hers  at  last  — 
all  hers ;  for  she  believed  that  Joseph  was  dead. 

267 


268  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

There  came  a  quiver  of  the  lips  beneath  her  own. 
The  eyes  of  the  man  opened,  gazed  steadily  into  hers. 
She  realized  now  the  fact  that  he  still  lived.  The 
knowledge  aroused  every  atom  of  latent  energy  in  her. 
In  a  flash,  she  was  metamorphosed  from  a  dazed, 
stricken  creature  of  weakness  into  her  usual  alert, 
shrewd  self.  She  turned  to  the  three  in  the  doorway. 

"Ada,  hurry  for  the  nearest  doctor,"  she  com- 
manded. "Not  a  word  to  anybody  else  about  this.  .  .  . 
Margie,  bring  me  water  and  the  gauze  —  quick.  .  .  . 
Johanna,  help  me  get  him  on  the  sofa.  .  .  .  Oh, 
where's  Darkin?" 

Ada,  at  the  door  into  the  passage,  paused  tc  reply 
bitterly : 

"Don't  worry  about  him.  He's  far  enough  away  by 
this.  Trust  him  to  make  his  get-away." 

"Hurry!"  Maggie  directed,  crisply;  and  Ada  went 
out. 

With  the  servant's  aid,  Joseph  was  raised  to  the 
sofa,  though  the  task  tried  the  two  women  to  the  limit 
of  their  strength,  for  now  he  had  sunk  into  uncon- 
sciousness again.  The  girl's  hasty  examination  dis- 
covered that  the  wound  was  in  the  left  shoulder.  She 
cut  away  the  clothing  with  the  scissors  brought  by 
Johanna,  bathed  the  wound  with  infinite  gentleness, 
shuddering  all  the  while,  and  bound  the  gauze  about 


THE  PERSISTENT  INVALID     269 

it  as  best  she  could.  She  had  just  finished  this  first 
aid,  when  Ada  returned,  accompanied  by  the  physician. 

"Not  in  the  least  dangerous,"  was  the  professional 
verdict,  "unless  complications  set  in,  which  is  extremely 
unlikely,  as  he  seems  in  first-class  condition.  But  he 
mustn't  be  moved  for  a  few  days,  if  it  can  be  helped. 
How  about  it?"  He  addressed  Mrs.  Darkin. 

It  was  Maggie  who  answered : 

"He  shall  stay  here,  of  course,"  she  declared, 
eagerly;  and  thus  quickly  the  matter  was  settled. 

In  due  time,  the  wounded  man  was  got  safely  to  bed  in 
Margie's  room,  and,  at  once,  after  regaining  conscious- 
ness, sent  into  a  comfortable  slumber  by  the  aid  of  a 
sedative.  Ada,  who  had  had  experience  in  affairs  of 
the  sort,  set  herself  resolutely  to  the  task  of  nursing. 
Maggie,  too,  would  have  shared  the  watch  incessantly, 
but  for  the  necessity  of  a  private  talk  with  the  physi- 
cian. When  he  was  ready  to  go,  she  accompanied  him 
into  the  parlor,  and  there  swore  him  to  secrecy.  It  was 
a  task  of  some  difficulty,  since  the  man  was  honest  and 
believed  it  his  duty  to  report  the  shooting  to  the  author- 
ities. Maggie  attempted  to  convince  him  that  the 
wound  had  been  self-inflicted;  but  the  medical  gentle- 
man laughed  in  her  face. 

"Anatomically  impossible,"  he  averred,  briskly. 

At  that,  Maggie  threw  herself  on  his  mercy.     If 


270  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

she  had  been  older  and  uglier,  her  task  must  have  been 
harder,  perhaps  even  impossible.  But  the  physician 
was  appreciative  of  beauty,  and  the  woman  beguiled 
him.  In  the  end,  he  conspired  with  her  to  keep  the 
affair  hidden  from  the  public,  unless  unforeseen  devel- 
opments should  render  another  course  advisable. 
Johanna,  who  was  loyal  to  her  mistress,  was  made  a 
party  to  the  pact.  A  little  stealthy  investigation  on 
her  part  revealed  the  fact  that  no  one,  so  far  as  was 
known,  had  heard  the  shot,  or  at  least  given  heed  to 
it.  Ada,  naturally,  had  no  desire  for  publicity,  while 
Margie  was  overjoyed  at  the  tremendous  secret  in 
which  she  was  allowed  to  share,  and  wild  horses  could 
not  have  torn  the  truth  from  her.  As  to  the  other 
person  concerned,  Joseph,  he  was  not  in  a  condition 
to  be  consulted,  but  his  agreement  might  well  be  taken 
for  granted. 

The  shooting  of  Joseph  in  her  apartment  had  a 
profound  effect  on  Maggie's  affairs.  It  involved, 
primarily  resigning  from  her  position  with  Green- 
wald  and  Company,  since  she  could  not  bring  herself 
to  leave  the  bedside  of  the  man  to  whom  she  had  given 
her  heart.  In  consequence,  she  was  out  of  employr:  ;ent, 
with  the  prospect  of  being  speedily  in  want  of  money 
for  the  necessities  of  life.  This  condition  was  too 
menacing  to  be  endured  supinely,  and  after  a  few  days, 


THE  PERSISTENT  INVALID     271 

when  the  patient  was  progressing  favorably  toward 
recovery,  she  set  forth  to  secure  another  situation, 
leaving  the  invalid  to  the  care  of  Ada. 

It  was  now  that  the  girl  learned  for  the  first  time 
the  excitement  caused  by  the  mysterious  disappearance 
of  Joseph  Holbrooke.  The  papers  displayed  columns 
concerning  the  inexplicable  manner  of  his  vanishing. 
Hargen  had  offered  a  reward  of  five  thousand  dollars 
for  accurate  information  concerning  the  young  man, 
living  or  dead.  A  new  dismay  filled  Maggie  while  she 
read.  She  realized  suddenly  that  the  ordinary  diffi- 
culties of  maintaining  such  a  secret  as  hers  were  in 
this  instance  to  be  multiplied  by  the  hue  and  cry  after 
Joseph.  Everywhere,  sleuths  would  be  searching  for 
any  clue,  however  slight:  the  task  of  evading  them 
would  prove  no  easy  one. 

Yet,  her  distress  over  the  danger  in  this  direction 
was  not  the  worst  of  her  troubles.  The  necessity  for 
employment  was  imperative,  but  she  could  secure 
nothing  of  any  sort.  A  few  hints  let  fall  here  and 
there  made  known  to  her  that  the  failure  was  directly 
due  to  Hargen,  who,  doubtless  at  the  instigation  of 
his  niece,  was  taking  pains  to  trace  her  movements 
and  to  vilify  her  wherever  there  seemed  likelihood  of 
her  finding  favor.  His  situation  in  the  mercantile 
world  gave  weight  to  the  manager's  word.  Maggie 


272  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

found  herself  wholly  unable  to  prevail  against  it.  She 
dared  not  take  any  open  action  against  him  in  self- 
exoneration  and  self-defense  at  this  time,  because  she 
dreaded  even  beyond  penury  the  possibility  of  more 
scandal  concerning  herself  and  Joseph.  Any  publicity 
for  herself  would  almost  certainly  result  in  making 
known  the  young  man's  secret  confinement  in  her 
apartment.  The  revelation  of  that  fact  would  for- 
ever taint  the  reputation  of  both,  for  no  explanation 
could  avail  against  the  seeming  of  guilt. 

Sheer  effort  of  will  preserved  for  Maggie  some 
measure  of  cheerfulness  through  this  ordeal.  The 
presence  of  Joseph  in  her  home  both  comforted  and 
tortured  her.  It  was  a  wonderful  blessing  to  have  him 
there  with  her  day  after  day ;  it  was  heart-breaking  to 
cherish  him  so,  yet  to  feel  that  they  could  never  be  all 
in  all  to  each  other.  As  Joseph  grew  stronger,  by 
so  much  she  withdrew  from  him.  When  he  became 
able  to  renew  his  suit,  she  refused  it  as  before,  for  the 
same  mistaken  reason  into  which  he  himself  had  led 
her.  Lest  she  disclose  too  much,  she  aped  indifference, 
coldness.  The  ruse  grieved  her  frightfully;  its  effect 
of  the  lover  was  precisely  the  reverse  of  what  she 
meant  it  to  be  —  it  fattened  desire. 

The  others  of  her  household,  however,  did  not  share 
in  Maggie's  sorrows.  Ada  was  happier  than  she  had 


THE  PERSISTENT  INVALID     273 

been  ever  before  in  all  her  life,  since  she  was  at  last 
quit  of  Jim  Darkin  and  the  evils  of  which  he  was 
the  epitome.  Margie,  too,  experienced  only  pleasure 
from  the  turn  of  events.  To  be  sure,  she  had  been 
robbed  of  a  trip  to  Europe,  but  that  was  a  joy  deferred 
—  nothing  more.  In  the  meantime,  there  was  the 
wonderful  adventure,  right  there  within  her  own  home. 
She  approved  of  Joseph  with  all  her  heart,  and  she 
and  the  patient  soon  became  the  best  of  friends.  More- 
over, Margie  gave  a  sauce  piquante  to  the  happening 
by  romantic  imaginings.  Precocious  in  many  ways, 
the  child  suspected  a  love-affair  beneath  the  surface  in 
this  friendship  between  her  aunt  and  the  invalid.  She 
had  observed  the  manner  of  Maggie  in  the  early  days 
of  the  nursing,  and  from  it  she  drew  conclusions  that 
pleased  her  mightily.  She  was  wise  enough  to  guess 
that  the  later  coldness  was  probably  assumed  as  the 
mask  of  true  feeling. 

In  addition  to  these  sources  of  contentment,  Margie 
found  a  curious  satisfaction  in  the  companionship  of 
her  mother,  although  there  were  drawbacks.  The  child 
once  ventured  to  bring  one  of  these  to  Mrs.  Darkin's 
attention.  For  the  purpose,  she  sought  the  kitchen 
after  dinner,  where  Ada  was  busy  doing  the  dishes  — 
a  task  she  had  appropriated  to  herself  since  the  dis- 
charge of  the  servant  for  economy's  sake. 


274  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"Do  sit  down  and  talk  to  me,  mother,"  the  child 
begged,  as  she  seated  herself  in  a  chair  by  the  table. 

"I  haven't  the  time  for  it,  dear,"  Ada  replied.  "I've 
got  the  silver  to  clean." 

Margie  pouted. 

"The  silver!"  she  ejaculated,  with  great  scorn. 
"Why,  we  have  only  just  a  few  plated  pieces  that  don't 
matter  a  bit.  .  .  .  But  why  is  it  that  you  won't  ever 
talk  to  me?"  she  continued  plaintively.  "You  don't 
seem  to  like  to  a  single  bit.  It's  just  work,  work, 
work  —  day  and  night,  with  you.  "Honest,  mother, 
you  do  as  much  as  three  servants." 

Ada  paused  for  a  moment,  to  regard  her  daughter 
sadly. 

"It's  like  that,"  she  answered,  rather  vaguely. 
"You  see,  I  want  to  be  a  servant  here.  It's  the  only 
way  I  can  show  how  grateful  I  am  to  you  and  to  your 
auntie.  I  want  to  work  —  to  work  hard!  —  until  I 
get  back  my  self-respect." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  the  daughter  agreed,  easily. 
"But,  mother,  do,  for  goodness'  sake,  be  happy  about 
it.  Try  and  smile  now  and  then."  The  seriousness  of 
the  exhortation  did,  indeed,  bring  a  smile  to  Ada's  lips; 
whereat  the  little  girl  clapped  her  hands  gleefully. 
"That's  it !"  she  cried.  "Cheer  up !" 


THE  PERSISTENT  INVALID     275 

"But,  when  I  think  of  the  past "  the  mother 

began,  grave  again. 

"Never  mind  the  past,"  Margie  urged.  "It  doesn't 
matter  what  you  were:  it's  what  you  are.  Mother, 
we're  getting  fond  of  you." 

The  heart  of  the  woman  suddenly  throbbed  with  a 
joy  of  which  she  had  never  dreamed.  Her  emotion 
was  so  strong  that  a  dizziness  seized  her  for  a  second. 
She  could  not  fashion  aught  of  the  feeling  into  speech. 
She  could  only  answer,  stumblingly: 

"Oh,  are  you?" 

"Of  course  we  are!"  Margie  protested,  energetically. 
"And  Auntie  and  I  both  are  getting  more  tired  every 
day  of  having  you  eat  your  meals  all  by  yourself  in  the 
kitchen,  the  way  you  want  to.  And  the  idea  of  your 
waiting  on  us  all  the  time,  just  as  if  you  were  nothing 
but  a  servant !  I  tell  you,  we  don't  like  it  a  bit." 

"Oh,  I  must  —  I  must,  for  a  time  anyhow,"  Ada 
cried.  "You  can't  understand,  dear,  yet ;  but  I  must !" 

The  child  heard  her  aunt  calling  from  the  parlor,  and 
got  up  from  the  chair,  somewhat  reluctantly. 

"Anyhow,  you've  got  to  come  into  the  parlor  when 
you've  finished  the  silver,  and  sit  there  and  talk  to  us 
to-night.  Will  you?" 

The  mother  promised,  albeit  with  an  air  of  doubtful- 
ness. When  she  had  finished  her  work,  she  went  first 


276  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

to  visit  the  patient,  in  case  he  might  require  some 
service.  As  a  result  of  this,  there  was  a  faint  smile 
on  her  lips  when,  finally,  she  appeared  in  the  parlor, 
where  Maggie  and  the  child  were  seated  at  the  table, 
studying  the  advertisements  of  help  wanted  in  a 
number  of  papers. 

"He's  asking  for  a  cigar,"  Ada  explained,  as  Maggie 
looked  up. 

"Well,  then,  he  just  can't  have  it,"  was  the  reply. 
"He's  had  three  to-day." 

"I  told  him  how  you  said  smoking  was  bad  for  a 
convalescent,  but  he  seemed  to  prefer  his  own  opinion." 

"How  is  he?"  Maggie  asked,  anxiously.  She  had 
purposely  avoided  the  invalid  through  two  days. 

Ada's  answer  was  explicit : 

"Well  enough  to  go  home  —  and  so  I  told  him." 

Maggie  burst  into  laughter,  which  Margie  echoed. 
Even  Mrs.  Darkin  smiled  more  frankly  than  was  usual 
with  her. 

"What  did  he  say?"  Maggie  questioned. 

"Oh,  he  was  very  polite  about  it,"  Ada  replied,  still 
smiling;  "but  he  told  me  to  mind  my  own  business." 

She  had  hardly  ceased  speaking  when  a  querulous 
voice  from  the  passage  caused  her  to  face  about,  while 
Maggie  and  the  child,  too,  looked  up. 

"My  nurse  didn't  bring  that  cigar,"  was  the  com- 


THE  PERSISTENT  INVALID     277 

plaint.  Joseph,  clad  in  a  dressing-gown,  and  appear- 
ing remarkably  hearty  for  an  invalid,  stood  smiling  in 
the  doonvay.  "I  wonder,  now,"  he  went  on,  with  a 
sly  glance  in  Maggie's  direction,  "if  the  head-nurse 
wouldn't  let  you." 

Ada  improved  this  diversion  of  his  attention  from 
herself  to  retreat  into  the  kitchen,  whither  she  was 
followed  by  Margie,  who  was  impelled  to  the  pursuit 
by  a  double  motive :  desire  to  reproach  her  mother  for 
thus  escaping  from  the  parlor  contrary  to  promise,  and 
a  wish  to  leave  her  aunt  and  the  patient  alone  together 
in  the  hope  of  tender  developments.  Maggie  herself, 
while  she  perceived  the  flight  of  the  others,  did  not 
resent  it,  since  she  was  minded  to  speak  plainly  tc 
Joseph.  She  did  so  the  moment  they  were  left  alone 
together : 

"Mr.  Holbrooke,"  she  demanded,  meeting  his  gaze 
serenely,  "when  are  you  going  home?  You've  been 
here  two  weeks  now.  You're  almost  well.  The  doctor 
says  there's  no  possible  danger  in  your  moving  at  any 
time.  There's  absolutely  not  a  particle  of  excuse  for 
your  staying  here  a  single  minute  longer." 

The  young  man  advanced  to  a  chair,  and  seated 
himself  with  an  ease  of  movement  that  gave  point  to 
Maggie's  statement.  Comfortably  ensconced,  he  re- 
garded his  hostess  appealingly. 


278  MAGGIE  PEPPER 

"I  really  can't  talk,"  he  suggested,  "until  I  get  a 
cigar." 

Without  a  word,  but  with  a  gesture  of  impatience, 
the  girl  sprang  up,  went  out  of  the  room,  and  quickly 
returned  with  a  single  cigar,  which,  with  a  box  of 
matches  and  an  ask-tray,  she  placed  on  the  table  within 
reach  of  Joseph's  hand.  While  she  returned  to  her 
seat,  the  young  man  thanked  her,  then  set  the  cigar 
alight.  This  accomplished  to  his  satisfaction,  he 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  surveyed  Maggie  with  an 
expression  of  extreme  amiability. 

"I'm  having  such  a  bully  time  here,"  he  said  finally, 
under  the  urgence  of  her  accusing  stare.  "It's  glorious 
—  dead  to  the  world,  you  know,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  No  one  knows  where  I  am,  though  there  are 
plenty  trying  hard  enough  to  find  out.  Newspapers 
full  of  -my  sudden  disappearance.  Lots  of  hopefuls 
looking  for  that  five  thousand  dollars  reward  Hargen 
offered  for  the  recovery  of  my  body,  dead  or  alive. 
.  .  .  Stingy  beast !  I  fancy  I'm  worth  more  than  that. 
And  can  you  imagine  any  better  fun  than  reading  your 
own  obituary,  which  I  do  every  day?" 

"Well,  you've  got  to  come  to  life,"  the  girl  ex- 
claimed. There  was  a  determination  in  her  tones  that 
alarmed  the  listener.  He  showed  no  least  sign  of 
trepidation,  however,  as  he  answered : 


THE  PERSISTENT  INVALID     279 

"I  shall  not  leave  here,  Margaret,  until  you  have 
consented  to  be  my  wife." 

The  girl  made  a  movement  of  weariness.  Her  voice, 
too,  rang  dejectedly  when  she  spoke,  and  the  warm 
eyes  were  full  of  reproach. 

"I  ought  to  have  sent  you  to  the  hospital  in  the  first 
place,"  she  said.  "If  only  I  hadn't  been  so  afraid  of 
police  interference !  Now,  you  may  be  found  here  any 
minute.  You're  sure  to  be,  sooner  or  later.  And  think 
of  the  scandal,  then !  It  would  be  so  much  worse  than 
at  the  start!  Oh,  to  have  everybody  know  that  you 
had  been  living  secretly  here  in  my  apartment,  while 
you  were  being  looked  for  everywhere !  It  would  ruin 
you  —  it  would  kill  me,  I  guess." 

Joseph's  face  had  grown  concerned. 

"Never  mind,  dear,"  he  besought  her.  "You  only 
"did  what  you  thought  was  for  the  best.  .  .  .  And  it 
was,  I  think." 

"It  was  the  worst  thing  I  could  have  done,"  Maggie 
persisted.  "There's  only  one  way  out :  You  must  go 
—  go  at  once.  Every  second  of  delay  now  increases 
the  danger  of  your  being  discovered  here,  and  that 
would  be  too  horrible !" 

Her  distress  was  so  great  that  Joseph,  who  loved  her, 
had  no  will  to  resist. 

"I'll  go  this  very  night,"  he  agreed,  sadly.    "I  sup- 


280  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

pose  I  ought  to.  ...  There's  a  midnight  train 

I'll  get  down  to  New  Orleans,  I  think,  then  catch  a 
steamer  to  Europe.  Over  there,  I'll  suddenly  return 
to  Paris  from  some  remote  place  where  I  couldn't  get 
the  news.  I'll  learn  about  being  missing  or  dead,  and 
I'll  come  back  to  life.  For  the  rest,  the  curious  ones 
can  fight  out  the  why's  and  wherefore's  among  them- 
selves. .  .  .  That'll  do  for  a  rough  program,  I  fancy." 
Joseph  smoked  for  a  little  time  in  silence,  his  face 
grave  with  thought.  Maggie,  watching  him  secretly, 
took  a  saddened  pride  in  the  wholesome  charm  of  the 
man,  wondered  how  she  could  ever  endure  life  sepa- 
rate from  him,  after  this  intimate  association.  She  was 
still  regarding  him  wistfully,  when,  looking  up  swiftly, 
he  caught  her  gaze.  Instantly  he  spoke,  in  a  voice 
soft,  yet  very  firm : 

"Margaret,  I  wish  you  to  answer  me  one  question. 
You  must  tell  me  the  truth,  too.  .  .  .  Why  won't  you 
marry  me?" 

A  quick  exasperation  drove  the  girl  to  candor.  She 
had  suffered  so  much  through  this  man  whom  she 
loved !  She  could  not  endure  much  more.  His  insist- 
ence on  this  subject  of  their  marriage  inflicted  needless 
suffering.  She  would  make  him  to  know  that  she  was 
aware  of  the  whole  truth.  Though  she  worshiped 
him,  she  longed  now  to  wound  him  this  much.  .  .  . 


I  SHALL  NOT  LRAVE   HERR,  MARGARET,  UNTIL   YOU   HAVE   CONSENTED   TO    BE   MY  WIFE. 


THE  PERSISTENT  INVALID     281 

Lovers  are  cruel  as  often  as  are  other  folk  —  oftener, 
alas! 

"Mr.  Holbrooke,"  she  said  slowly,  while  the  gray 
eyes  held  his  eager  ones  with  an  inscrutable  expression, 
"you  first  spoke  to  me  of  love  and  marriage  after  a 
row  with  your  fiance,  when  you  were  afraid  of 
scandal  for  me.  It  was  to  save  me  from  that  scandal 
that  you  offered  to  do  the  'right  thing,'  as  you  deemed 
it.  Well,  leaving  out  the  question  of  love  on  my  part, 
for  it  doesn't  enter  into  this,  the  idea  of  reparation,  or 
duty,  or  moral  compulsion  of  any  sort,  as  a  motive  for 
marriage,  is  horrible  to  me.  It  means  a  sacrifice,  and 
—  I  don't  want  you  to  sacrifice  yourself  for  me  —  I 
don't  want  you  that  way  —  I  won't  have  you  like 
that!"  Her  emotion  had  deepened  while  she  was 
speaking;  there  was  a  little  wildness  in  her  voice. 

"Good  God!"  Joseph  cried,  aghast.  "I  tell  you, 
Margaret,  you're  wrong  —  wrong !" 

Maggie's  manner  was  grown  quiet  again  when  she 
answered : 

"Oh,  it  may  be  that  I  am  —  just  now.  But  it's 
better  to  be  wrong  on  the  right  side  than  right  on  the 
wrong  side.  Why,  Joe,"  she  went  on,  with  a  heavenly 
tenderness  in  her  voice  as  she  called  him  so  familiarly 
yet  once  again,  "you're  just  a  great  big,  impulsive 
boy,  with  an  infinite  capacity  for  doing  the  wrong 


282  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

thing.  Just  at  present,  your  impulse  is  to  marry  me. 
But  I  think  too  much  of  you  to  let  you  do  it.  I  won't 
take  any  chance  of  your  getting  another  impulse  some- 
time, in  a  different  direction.  You  see,  if  I  don't 
marry  you,  it  won't  break  your  heart:  if  I  do,  it 
might." 

Joseph  jumped  up  with  a  liveliness  that  argued  his 
complete  recovery. 

"See  here,  Margaret,"  he  said,  coming  to  her,  and 
bending  over  until  his  face  was  close.  "You  say  I'm 
impulsive.  Well,  I  believe  you.  And  I  know  one 
thing :  You  can  control  my  impulsiveness  —  you  can 
do  what  you  please  with  me.  No  one  else  has  ever 
been  able  to  do  that.  Ethel  never  did :  she  never  could. 
You  have  done  it :  you  can  do  it  again  —  always.  Isn't 
it  right  that  you  should  take  me  in  hand?  You  know 
how  I've  talked  to  you  about  the  family,  my  duty  to 
the  ancestors,  and  all  that.  Well,  you  can  make  me 
do  them  honor.  I  love  you  —  I  believe  you  love  me, 

because  once,  when  you  looked  at  me,  you But 

never  mind  the  love  part  now,  as  you  said.  The  thing 
is,  dear,  I  need  you  —  oh,  I  need  you  so !" 

Joseph  stooped  still  lower.  Despite  invalidism,  he 
raised  the  girl,  as  once  before,  and  drew  her  into  his 
arms,  although  she  struggled  against  it.  He  lifted  her 
face  to  his,  while  one  arm  held  her  fast  to  his  breast. 


THE  PERSISTENT  INF A LID    283 

He  looked  down  into  her  eyes,  alight  with  soft  wonder. 
His  voice  rang  very  gently,  yet  wholly  masterful : 

"I  need  you  so  much !" 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  the  girl  confessed  in  a 
swift  shyness,  and  her  eyes  fell.  She  fought  to  flee 
from  his  embrace,  as  once  before  she  had  fought.  But, 
now,  the  man  was  grown  wiser,  and  he  did  not  let 
her  go.  Instead,  he  lifted  her  face  a  little  more  toward 
his,  then  set  his  lips  on  her  mouth.  .  .  .  And  because 
he  had  not  yielded  her  up,  she  forgot  everything  save 
rapture,  and  her  lips  clung  to  his. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

NEW   PERIL 

THERE  were  innumerable  themes  that  required  dis- 
cussion by  the  lovers.  Through  the  hours,  they  talked 
on  and  on,  and  never  before  had  been  conversation  so 
strange  and  splendid.  There  were  intervals,  too,  when 
not  a  word  was  spoken,  and  these  were  even  more 
strange  and  splendid.  Margie  went  down  the  passage 
toward  the  parlor-door  to  say  good-night,  but  she 
went  with  discreetly  quiet  steps,  for  reasons  of  her 
own,  and  she  paused  while  she  was  yet  at  some  distance 
from  the  entrance.  It  was  a  faint  sound  that  she 
heard  from  the  parlor,  but  it  had  halted  her  on  the 
instant.  She  retreated  at  once,  but  a  murmured  word 
in  a  man's  voice  rang  in  her  ears.  She  was  dancing 
with  delight  when  she  rejoined  her  mother,  because 
her  romantic  anticipations  bade  fair  to  be  realized. 
So,  she  presently  went  to  bed  without  the  usual  kiss 
to  her  aunt,  and  Mrs.  Darkin,  too,  betook  herself  to 
rest.  But  the  two  in  the  parlor  took  no  note  of  time. 

Though  there  was  now  the  bliss  of  mutual  love 
284 


NEW  PERIL  285 

confessed,  enough  of  difficulty  and  danger  remained 
in  their  path  to  bring  their  thoughts  betimes  back  to 
earth  from  heaven.  They  plotted  in  detail  the  manner 
in  which  Joseph  should  contrive  his  escape  secretly 
from  the  apartment,  and  the  subsequent  return  to  life 
in  Europe.  They  were  more  than  ever  afraid  now  of 
any  mistake  by  which  the  truth  might  become  known. 
The  scandal  that  must  ensue,  were  the  fact  of  his 
sojourn  in  Maggie's  home  to  become  known,  would 
be  such  as  to  embitter  their  lives.  ...  It  was  during 
the  consideration  of  this  subject  that  they  discovered 
the  lateness  of  the  hour,  which  was  past  midnight  — 
too  late  for  his  departure  to-night,  as  he  had  planned. 
They  were  so  happy  in  the  delay  thus  secured  before 
their  parting  that  they  worried  hardly  at  all  over  the 
change,  although  both  were  aware  that  every  moment 
of  his  presence  in  the  flat  added  to  the  peril  of  dis- 
covery. When,  at  last,  they  separated  for  what  was 
left  of  the  night,  it  was  in  happy  unconsciousness  of 
the  fact  that  their  fond  dalliance  was  destined  to  set 
at  naught  all  their  scheming. 

Nevertheless,  such  was  the  result,  and  the  first 
warning  of  disaster  came  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
next  day.  Margie,  who  had  been  sent  out  on  an 
errand,  passed  through  the  parlor  on  her  return,  and 


286  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

stopped  for  a  moment's  chat  with  her  aunt.  In  her 
hand,  she  carried  a  letter,  which  Maggie  observed. 

"Is  it  for  me?"  she  questioned.  She  was  hoping 
that  it  might  be  a  reply  from  some  one  of  the  adver- 
tisers for  help  to  whom  she  had  written.  She  was  still 
anxious  concerning  a  situation,  which  must  be  secured 
to  tide  over  the  period  of  Joseph's  absence.  She  had 
been  too  proud  to  make  known  her  necessity  to  the 
lover,  and  he  had  failed  to  consider  it,  although  in- 
formed as  to  the  manner  in  which  money  had  been 
extorted  from  her.  Now,  her  face  fell  as  she  listened 
to  the  first  word  of  the  child's  answer;  then,  speedily, 
a  lively  alarm  showed  itself. 

"No,"  Margie  said,  carelessly;  "it's  for  mother.  It 
was  a  man  downstairs  gave  it  to  me.  I  never  saw  him 
before.  He  asked  me  a  lot  of  questions  about  Mr. 
Darkin.  And  he  wanted  to  know  if  he  wasn't  up  here. 
And,  then,  he  asked  me  the  name  of  the  man  that  was 
staying  up  here." 

Maggie's  face  had  whitened  now. 

"You  didn't  tell  him !"  she  gasped.  The  imminence 
of  the  peril  set  her  to  trembling. 

"No,  indeed,  I  didn't!"  Margie  replied,  proudly. 
She  felt  herself  almost  indignant  with  her  aunt  for 
asking  such  a  question.  The  secret  concerning  Joseph's 
presence  in  the  flat  was  regarded  by  her  as  a  sacred 


NEW  PERIL  287 

trust,  which  she  would  have  guarded  with  her  life. 
Besides,  it  was  her  dearest  treasure  —  in  her  estima- 
tion the  most  important  thing  that  had  ever  come  into 
her  life.  But  she  subdued  the  little  irritation  against 
her  aunt,  and  hurried  away  to  give  her  mother  the 
letter. 

In  this  crisis,  as  she  deemed  it,  Maggie's  first  thought 
was  to  summon  her  lover  to  consultation.  He  was 
lying  down  in  order  to  prepare  against  the  unaccus- 
tomed fatigue  of  the  coming  night.  This  had  been 
the  girl's  edict,  and  he  had  obeyed,  although  most 
unwillingly.  Now,  Maggie  did  not  scruple  to  break 
in  on  his  repose.  In  response  to  her  call,  he  appeared 
almost  immediately,  still  wearing  the  regalia  of  in- 
validism  —  robe  and  slippers. 

"Couldn't  do  without  me  any  longer,"  he  declared 
whimsically,  as  he  came  into  the  room.  But  a  glance 
into  the  girl's  pale  and  frightened  face  banished  the 
smile  from  his  lips.  "What's  the  trouble,  now?"  he 
demanded.  His  face  had  hardened  in  a  second;  he 
looked  ready  for  combat,  ready  for  victory,  too.  Even 
in  her  troubled  state  of  mind,  Maggie  found  time  to 
rejoice  over  the  resolute  strength  in  her  lover's  bearing. 
Quickly,  she  explained  what  had  happened. 

"You  see,  Joe,"  she  ended,  you  must  go  —  now,  at 
once!" 


288  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

"Yes,"  he  agreed.  "I'll  get  ready,  and  leave  the 
minute  it's  dark.  That  won't  be  more  than  an  hour 
now."  He  went  to  Maggie,  and  kissed  her.  "Don't 
you  worry,  little  girl,"  he  said,  soothingly.  "Be  sure 
I'll  manage  it,  somehow." 

She  looked  up  at  him  wistfully,  the  red  lips  tremu- 
lous for  fear. 

"If  only  we  hadn't  been  so  —  so  foolish  last  night !" 
she  murmured. 

Joseph  shook  his  head  energetically,  and,  despite 
the  gravity  of  the  situation,  smiled  radiantly. 

"Darling,"  he  whispered,  "that  was  worth  every- 
thing! Why,  just  think,  if  I  had  gone  —  without  that 
foolishness !" 

Doubtless,  there  would  have  been  another  interval 
of  delay,  notwithstanding  the  danger  of  it,  had  not 
the  ringing  of  the  door-bell  necessitated  Joseph's  re- 
treat into  the  seclusion  of  the  bed-room.  To  Maggie's 
astonishment,  the  visitor  proved  to  be  Mrs.  Thatcher, 
whom  she  welcomed  warmly.  The  detective  wasted 
no  time  in  coming  directly  to  the  point.  Scarcely  were 
the  two  women  seated  when  the  elder  explained  her 
mission : 

"I've  come  to  see  you,  my  dear,  on  a  very  important 
matter.  .  .  .  There's  no  one  to  overhear,  I  hope." 
Maggie  shook  her  head.  "Well,  then,  it's  like  this: 


NEW  PERIL  289 

I'm  going  to  betray  professional  secrets  in  order  to 
help  you  out.  It  seems  to  be  getting  a  habit  with  me 
to  sacrifice  my  duty  for  your  sake." 

Maggie,  whose  face  was  still  pale  from  the  other 
fear,  showed  now  an  added  anxiety  in  her  expression 
over  Mrs.  Thatcher's  ominous  beginning. 

"Is  it  anything  serious?"  she  asked,  in  much  trepi- 
dation. 

"That's  as  it  may  be,"  was  the  enigmatic  reply. 
"All  that  I  know  is  just  something  I  picked  up  by 
chance,  and  I  think  you  ought  to  be  informed  about  it. 
It  may  mean  trouble  for  you,  and  it  may  not:  you'll 
know  fast  enough.  I  was  at  police  headquarters  this 
morning.  I  was  there  on  another  case,  but  it  so  hap- 
pened that  one  of  the  central-office  men  told  me  a  bit 
of  news.  It  seems  that  Jim  Darkin,  the  husband  of 
your  sister-in-law,  killed  a  man  in  Denver  last  week. 
He  made  his  get-away,  all  right.  They're  sure  he's 
come  East.  And,  more  than  that,  they've  got  reason 
to  think  he's  here  in  New  York  City.  And  there's 
still  more,  Maggie:  They  believe  that  you're  hiding 
him  right  here  in  your  flat!"  The  detective  paused, 
and  stared  sympathetically  at  her  friend. 

Maggie  shrank  back,  with  an  ejaculation  of  sur- 
prised alarm.  The  fact  was  so  contrary  to  anything 


29o  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

she  had  guessed  that,  for  the  moment,  she  was  com- 
pletely at  a  loss.  She  had  feared  the  finding  of  some 
clue  which  might  lead  the  searchers  to  suspect  Joseph's 
presence  in  the  apartment,  but  the  possibility  of  the 
man's  presence  in  her  home  being  known,  while  his 
identity  was  mistaken  for  that  of  another,  had  never 
entered  her  mind.  So,  in  the  presence  of  the  revela- 
tion, she  could  only  sit  gazing  helplessly. 

"They  suspect  me — of  hiding  him. — Jim  Darkin!" 
Her  tones  came  brokenly.  But,  quickly,  her  brain 
cleared  again.  "Now  why  on  earth  should  they  do 
that?" 

"You  would  understand,  if  you  stopped  to  think  a 
bit,"  the  detective  answered.  "You  see,  his  wife  is 
here.  The  police,  of  course,  have  kept  track  of  Mrs. 
Darkin,  more  or  less,  although  I've  convinced  them 
now  that  she's  given  up  the  old  life  and  associations 
for  good.  Well,  then,  Darkin  is  wanted  for  murder, 
or  homicide  at  least,  out  in  Denver.  They  have  reason 
to  believe  he's  in  New  York.  Naturally,  he  would  try 
to  get  his  wife's  help  in  keeping  out  of  the  way.  They 
know  she's  here.  So,  they  investigate,  and  they  find 
out  that  you  have  a  man  concealed  on  the  premises. 
Under  the  circumstances,  they're  bound  to  think  they've 
located  their  man.  Aren't  they?" 


NEW  PERIL  291 

"Ye-es,"  Maggie  admitted,  in  great  perturbation.  "I 
suppose  so." 

"Now,  you  know,  Maggie,"  Mrs.  Thatcher  went  on, 
speaking  with  a  certain  brusk  kindliness,  "that  I 
don't  know  anything  at  all  about  this  man's  business 
here.  I  didn't  come  to  pry,  though  that's  my  profes- 
sion. I've  come  here  to  give  you  warning  —  and  that's 
my  pleasure,  my  dear."  She  smiled  a  little  over  her 
balanced  phrases.  "But,"  she  concluded,  suddenly 
grave  again,  "I  must  tell  you  one  thing:  If  you  really 
are  trying  to  conceal  this  man,  the  fact  will  get  out, 
and  it  will  make  you  a  marked  woman  for  the  rest  of 
your  life." 

"Marked  —  me !"  Maggie  ejaculated,  in  utter  exas- 
peration. The  color  came  to  her  cheeks  again,  and  her 
voice  had  its  old-time  ring  of  music.  There  was  the 
flippancy  of  desperation  in  the  words  that  followed: 
"Great  heavens,  Thatch,  I'm  tattooed  all  over  now!" 

Mrs.  Thatcher,  however,  did  not  smile  at  the  out- 
burst. On  the  contrary,  she  shook  her  head  porten- 
tously : 

"You  must  get  him  away,"  she  advised.  "Do  it  — 
quick !  And  don't,  for  mercy's  sake,  have  anything  to 
'do  with  him  again  —  ever !" 

Maggie  suddenly  aroused  to  knowledge  that  the 
detective  really  believed  Darkin  to  be  sheltered  in  the 


292  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

apartment.  She  had  forgotten  to  deny  the  fact  in  trie 
confusion  of  her  thoughts  over  the  peril  in  this  latest 
development.  She  hastened  to  correct  her  friend's 
error : 

"But  he  isn't  here,"  she  protested.  "This  is  the  last 
place  in  the  world  that  he'd  come  to."  She  smiled 
grimly,  whereat  the  observant  detective  wondered,  for 
she  knew  nothing  of  the  fight  between  Darkin  and 
Joseph  in  the  flat. 

"So  much  the  better,"  she  declared,  crisply.  "Well, 
my  business  —  or  pleasure,  rather  —  is  done,  and  I'll 
be  off."  She  would  have  risen,  but  Maggie  put  forth" 
a  detaining  hand.  It  had  occurred  to  her  that  the 
detective  could  counsel  her  in  this  emergency  more 
wisely  than  could  any  other  person.  Prudence  directed 
her  to  make  a  confidante  of  Mrs.  Thatcher. 

The  girl's  purpose  was  hindered  for  a  time  by  the 
appearance  of  Ada,  who  stopped  short  in  manifest 
terror  as  she  beheld  her  old  enemy,  the  detective. 

"Don't  mind  me,"  Mrs.  Thatcher  said  to  the  trem- 
bling woman.  "By-gones  are  by-gones ;  and  I'm  glad 
to  see  you  here,  and  looking  so  well." 

Mrs.  Darkin  showed  her  relief  over  this  speech,  and 
smiled  in  response,  albeit  wanly. 

"I  only  wanted  to  ask  about  this  letter,"  she  ex- 
plained apologetically  to  Maggie.  "I  didn't  know 


'NEW  PERIL  293 

there  was  anybody  with  you.  It's  from  some  old  friend 
of  Jim's.  A  man  downstairs  gave  it  to  Margie.  He 
wants  to  know  if  he  can  see  Jim  here." 

"It's  a  stall,"  the  detective  commented,  tersely.  "A 
plain-clothes  man  sent  the  letter,  of  course.  Don't 
answer  it."  She  turned  briskly  to  Maggie.  "Oh  by 
the  way,  they've  found  Mr.  Holbrooke." 

The  girl  was  startled  so  that  she  uttered  a  little  cry. 
She  regarded  her  friend  with  widened  eyes.  What 
could  the  woman  mean  ? 

"Have  they?"  she  questioned,  feebly. 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Thatcher  replied,  studying  the  girl 
shrewdly.  "That  is  to  say,  they've  found  his  body  in 
the  river.  They  haven't  identified  it  yet,  not  positively ; 
but  they  seem  to  be  sure  it's  the  right  one.  I  only 
heard  the  news  a  short  time  ago.  I  don't  know  any 
details,  except  that  it's  a  suicide." 

Maggie  listened  with  a  sense  of  unreality.     There 
was  a  sort  of  ghastly  mockery  in  hearing  this  account 
concerning  the  dead  body  of  the  man  who  was  very ' 
much  alive,  indeed,  not  more  than  a  rod  away. 

"I  don't  understand  about  him,"  the  detective  con- 
tinued, musingly.  "What  earthly  reason  was  there  for 
him  to  commit  suicide?  Of  course,  that's  what  the 
evidence  seems  to  indicate,  from  all  I  heard.  But,  for 


294  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

the  life  of  me,  I  can't  guess  what  would  drive  him  to 
kill  himself.  Can  you?" 

"Great  heavens !  No !"  Maggie  exclaimed,  in  much' 
distress  at  the  possibility  contained  in  the  question. 
"No!"  she  repeated,  with  increased  emphasis. 

"Well,  if  you  don't  know,  who  should?"  Mrs. 
Thatcher  remarked,  carelessly.  "I  should  think  you'd 
have  known  if  anybody  did,  you  saw  him  so  much. 
Anyhow,  it's  a  great  pity  —  happening  just  after  he'd 
gone  to  work  so,  and  with  everything  flourishing.  It 
would  make  your  heart  ache,  Maggie,  to  see  things 
down  there  at  the  store,  now.  Everything's  all  upset. 
Hargen  seems  to  have  lost  his  head  completely,  and 
he's  more  swollen  up  than  ever,  too.  He's  discharged 
all  his  best  help  —  nobody  can  guess  why,  unless  it's 
just  to  save  money.  There  aren't  enough  now  to  do 
the  work,  though  it's  falling  off  fast.  I  guess  Hol- 
brooke's suicide  will  finish  the  business  altogether.  It 
looks  that  way  to  me,  and  my  judgment  is  all  right,  I 
fancy.  .  .  .  Haven't  you  ever  seen  him  since  —  since 
he  quarreled  with  the  woman  he  was  going  to  marry? 
We  all  knew  about  that,  because  someone  overheard 
him  and  Hargen  having  a  row  over  it.  But  haven't 
you  seen  him  since,  Maggie?"  She  waited  for  a 
moment,  inquisitively;  but  there  was  no  answer  forth' 
coming  from  the  girl,  who  remained  silent,  with  an 


NEW  PERIL  295 

air  01  embarrassment,  her  eyes  downcast  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  she  was  trying  to  adjust  her  reply  in  such  wise 
as  to  make  it  contain  exactly  the  safe  degree  of  candor. 
Mrs.  Thatcher,  however,  took  it  for  granted  that  the 
question  was  distasteful,  and  she  hastened  to  make  an 
end  of  the  subject:  "Well,  it's  not  properly  my  busi- 
ness, and  I  withdraw  the  question,  besides  promising 
not  to  ask  you  any  more.  .  .  .  And,  now,  I  must  be 
off.  Good-bye,  dear." 

For  the  second  time,  Maggie  was  unwilling  that  the 
interview  should  terminate.  She  looked  up  swiftly, 
as  the  detective  started  to  rise,  made  sure  that  Ada  had 
slipped  away  to  the  kitchen,  and  spoke  nervously : 

"Tell  me,  please,  Mrs.  Thatcher,  how  does  she  bear 
it?— -I  mean,  Miss  Hargen.  Is  she  suffering  much, 
have  you  heard  —  since  the  quarrel  you  spoke  of,  and 
his  disappearance?" 

The  detective  nodded  her  head  violently,  and  her 
rough  features  took  on  an  expression  of  commiseration. 

"She  certainly  is,"  she  declared,  "from  all  I  can 
Hear.  They  say  she's  about  as  unhappy  as  a  woman 
can  be.  She  hates  you  like  poison,  of  course."  Mag- 
gie winced,  but  uttered  no  protest.  "Luckily,  she 
blames  nobody  except  herself  for  Mr.  Holbrooke's 
committing  suicide." 


296  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

Maggie's  next  question  was  spoken  very  softly, 
falteringly : 

"Do  you  think  she's  really  —  really  fond  of  him?" 

Mrs.  Thatcher  hesitated  for  a  little  before  replying. 
When,  finally,  she  made  answer,  it  was  with  more  than 
a  hint  of  ambiguousness : 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  declared,  indifferently;  and  then, 
with  more  earnestness:  "As  much,  perhaps,  as  a 
woman  of  that  sort  can  care  for  anybody  except 
Herself." 

Maggie  remained  silent  a  full  minute,  reflecting 
deeply,  while  the  detective  watched  with  a  speculative 
eye.  There  was  much  in  the  whole  situation,  as  far 
as  it  concerned  Joseph  Holbrooke  and  the  two  girls, 
that  puzzled  Mrs.  Thatcher.  It  was  her  nature  to 
search  out  the  full  explanation  of  anything  that  aroused 
her  curiosity.  Her  interest  in  such  solutions  was  the 
prime  factor  that  rendered  her  an  excellent  detective. 
In  this  present  case,  her  friendship  for  Maggie  pre- 
vented her  from  such  investigation  as  she  might  have 
made  concerning  another  person,  but  that  same  friend- 
ship did  not  serve  as  a  bar  to  curiosity ;  on  the  contrary, 
it  whetted  inquisitiveness.  So,  now,  she  observed  the 
girl  closely,  and  in  the  scrutiny  found  something  to 
confirm  a  suspicion  that  lurked  in  the  back  of  her  mind. 


NEW  PERIL  297 

Suddenly,  Maggie  spoke,  still  without  raising  her 
eyes: 

"Will  you  take  a  message  to  her  from  me?" 

The  question  startled  the  detective  out  of  her  usual 
composure.  There  was  a  trace  of  discomfiture  in  her 
voice  when  she  replied : 

"Why,  certainly,  Maggie,  if  you  want  me  to." 

The  girl  brought  out  the  next  words  roughly,  as  if 
she  thrust  them  forth  by  an  effort  of  her  whole 
strength : 

"Then,  tell  her  —  he  isn't  —  dead !"  Mrs.  Thatcher 
cried  out  excitedly,  and  her  mouth  opened  for  a  ques- 
tion; but  Maggie's  gesture  was  imperative.  "That's 
all  I  can  tell  you  now  —  please,  don't  ask  me  for  a 
word  more.  I  can't  tell  you  anything.  But  you'll 
give  her  my  message,  won't  you  ?" 

The  detective  sprang  to  her  feet;  she  was  bristling 
with  excitement. 

"Bless  your  heart,  dear,"  she  exclaimed  animatedly, 
"you  needn't  worry  about  my  delivering  the  message. 
I'll  give  it  to  her  just  as  quick  as  a  taxi,  will  get  me  to 
the  house,  if  she's  at  home ;  and,  if  she  isn't,  I'll  hunt 
until  I've  found  her."  .  .  .  She  beamed  on  her  aston- 
ished hostess,  who,  also,  had  risen,  and  was  now 
regarding  the  elder  woman's  behavior  with  much  be- 
wilderment. "You  see,  Margaret,"  was  the  explana- 


298  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

tion,  "I  think  there's  five  thousand  dollars  for  me  in 
this  message  to  Ethel  Hargen —  the  reward,  you 
know."  .  .  .  Then,  abruptly,  Mrs.  Thatcher's  expres- 
sion changed.  "Why,  no,"  she  exclaimed,  regretfully ; 
"the  reward  belongs  to  you." 

"Gracious,  no!"  the  girl  cried,  in  consternation. 
"Don't  you  understand  that  I  can't  appear  in  this  in 
any  way  —  that  I  wouldn't  for  a  million  dollars 
reward  ?" 

But  Mrs.  Thatcher  was  obdurate.  She  was  a  woman 
of  strong  convictions,  and  she  cherished  a  profound 
respect  for  her  conscience.  Just  now,  her  conscience 
told  her  that  the  reward  should  rightly  go  to  Maggie ; 
therefore,  nothing  else  would  content  her.  The  girl 
argued  in  vain;  she  could  not  persuade  the  detective 
to  another  mind  in  the  matter.  But,  finally,  an  inspira- 
tion came  to  her,  and  she  offered  a  compromise.  If 
Mrs.  Thatcher  would  claim  the  reward  in  her  own 
name,  Maggie  would  accept  one  thousand  dollars  of  it 
for  herself.  She  was  moved  to  do  this  by  the  fact  that 
she  was  in  a  sad  plight  financially,  and  the  money 
would  prove  a  blessing  indeed.  She  had  no  scruple 
against  taking  the  sum  from  Hargen.  Moreover,  the 
project  appealed  to  her  sense  of  humor,  since  it  was 
as  the  result  of  her  own  and  Joseph's  machinations 
that  the  reward  had  come  to  be  offered  at  all.  She 


NEW  PERIL  299 

made  known  her  decision  to  the  detective,  and,  after  a 
brief  argument,  it  was  gratefully  accepted.  .  .  .  Forth- 
with, Mrs.  Thatcher  departed  in  haste,  eager  to  be 
first  with  news  worth  five  thousand  dollars. 

Left  alone,  Maggie's  first  thought  was  of  Joseph. 
At  once,  after  receiving  the  message  through  Mrs. 
Thatcher,  Ethe!  Hargen,  or  her  father,  or  both,  would 
come  in  search  of  more  precise  information,  which 
would  not  be  given.  But  that  inquiries  would  be 
directed  against  her  and  those  in  the  apartment  could 
not  be  doubted.  There  was,  too,  the  danger  at  hand 
from  the  mistaken  inferences  of  the  police  concerning 
the  whereabouts  of  James  Darkin.  Obviously,  then, 
Joseph  must  take  flight  without  another  second  of 
unnecessary  delay.  .  .  .  She  opened  her  lips  to  call 
him. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

AN   INVITATION    FOR   THE   MARQUIS 

THE  Marquis  de  Brensac,  having  just  completed  the 
reading  of  a  fourteenth  century  memoir,  reflected  with 
pride  on  the  valor  of  his  ancestor  at  the  battle  of 
Slouys,  as  therein  narrated ;  for  the  brave  warrior  had 
refused  to  retreat  when  the  tide  of  battle  turned  against 
him,  while  all  others  of  his  troop  fled  for  their  lives, 
he  alone  fought  on,  until  he  fell  dead. 

The  marquis  had  been  deeply  stirred.  His  heart 
was  thrilled  by  imaginations  of  such  splendid  deeds. 
Ah,  those  were  the  days  of  glorious  adventure !  To-day 
could  offer  nothing  such.  Of  old  time,  a  man  might 
go  forth  to  fight  for  fame  and  the  honor  of  his  lady. 
Nowadays,  even  romance  was  become  a  lackadaisical 
thing,  and  adventure  was  wholly  dead.  The  marquis 
was,  of  course,  unjust;  he  exaggerated.  But  there 
was  excuse  for  him,  since  he  suffered  from  discontent 
over  his  own  tedious  routine  of  life.  Yet  once  again, 
he  was  yearning  for  some  connection,  however  remote, 
with  the  deeds  of  dering-do.  He  fretted  for  any  least 
part  in  wild  adventure. 

300 


AN  INVITATION  301 

How  great,  then,  must  have  been  his  delight,  could 
He  but  have  known  the  singular  truth  as  to  the  recent 
happenings  in  the  life  of  his  American  acquaintance, 
Monsieur  Holbrooke:  that  he  himself,  there  in  the 
library  of  his  ancient  castle  by  the  Mediterranean,  had 
engineered  Joseph  to  the  course  in  which  he  had 
fought  with  desperate  valor,  had  been  wounded  sore, 
had  done  all  this  for  a  lady  fair,  had  made  conquest  of 
the  maiden's  heart,  and  had  still  more  to  undergo  ere 
the  end  of  his  trials!  Surely,  the  knowledge  must 
Have  filled  the  mourning  nobleman  with  joy.  Alas,  he 
guessed  nothing  of  the  adventures  he  had  wrought, 
and  so  sat  on,  forlornly  bored. 

It  has  been  stated  that  Joseph  had  still  more  to 
undergo  in  the  way  of  difficulty  and  danger  before 
coming  to  the  end  of  his  adventures.  He  himself,  in 
Margie's  chamber,  was  blissfully  ignorant  of  the 
approaching  peril,  the  while  he  dressed  himself  in 
readiness  for  flight  from  the  apartment,  which  had 
'  been  planned  to  take  place  as  soon  as  night  was  come. 
Already,  the  shadows  had  drawn  down,  and  he  hurried 
his  preparations,  partly  for  the  sake  of  prudence,  and 
more  for  desire  to  be  with  Margaret  again.  No 
shadow  of  the  impending  cast  gloom  on  the  radiance 
of  his  spirits. 

With  Maggie,  however,  the  case  was  otherwise.    To 


302  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

her,  the  disaster  was  made  known  at  the  very  moment 
when  she  opened  her  lips  to  summon  him  to  her  side. 
...  A  slight  noise  at  the  window  caught  her  ear. 
She  turned,  and  saw  a  man  standing  within  the  room, 
who  had  evidently  made  his  entrance  by  way  of  the 
fire-escape. 

Despite  the  fact  that  the  newcomer  was  a  very  per- 
sonable man,  the  girl  regarded  him  with  horror.  Such 
is  the  effect  of  emotional  bias  on  vision.  She  deemed 
him  hideous,  because  she  suspected  his  errand  there. 
She  believed  that  his  presence  in  her  home  meant  evil 
for  the  one  she  loved.  In  the  first  second,  that  thought 
brought  faintness ;  her  knees  grew  weak,  sight  blurred, 
she  sickened  with  terror.  But,  in  the  next  second,  the 
same  thought  brought  back  her  strength,  added  to  it, 
since  the  lover's  salvation  might  hang  on  her  ability. 
So,  she  addressed  the  intruder  with  an  air  of  boldness, 
so  well  assumed  that  it  deceived  the  fellow : 

"What  do  you  want  here  ?  How  dare  you  enter  my 
apartment  in  this  fashion !  I  shall  send  for  the  police." 

The  man,  though  much  impressed  by  her  courage, 
and  more  by  her  beauty,  was  not,  unfortunately,  dis- 
concerted in  the  least  degree.  On  the  contrary,  he 
smiled,  as  he  answered: 

"Please,  don't  take  the  trouble,  miss ;  the  police  are 
already  here." 


AN  INVITATION  303 

Maggie  uttered  a  half-sob  of  dismay  at  this  verifica- 
tion of  the  worst  fears. 

"The  police!"  she  gasped.  "You  mean — >you  are 
a  detective?" 

The  man  nodded,  amiably  enough.  He  was  really 
sorry  to  alarm  this  exceedingly  attractive  young 
woman. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "I've  got  a  warrant  for  the  arrest 
of  James  Darkin,  and  I  must  take  him  in.  ...  I  know 
he's  here,"  he  added  confidently,  though  in  truth  his 
assumption  of  certainty  was  no  more  than  surmise. 

"Did  he  get  in  here  by  way  of  the  fire-escape?  Is 
that  why  you  came  in  that  way  ?"  Maggie  questioned, 
artlessly. 

"I  think  you  already  know  about  his  part  of  it," 
the  detective  retorted,  somewhat  nettled. 

"I  know  nothing  about  James  Darkin,"  Maggie  de- 
clared. "His  wife  told  me  he  had  gone  West,  she 
thought.  He  isn't  here.  ...  I  don't  understand  your 
reasons  for  acting  in  this  underhanded  way.  Why  did 
you  choose  to  come  in  by  the  fire-escape?  Why  didn't 
you  come  by  the  door,  like  a  respectable  person?  I 
don't  believe  you're  a  detective,  after  all !" 

The  man  exhibited  his  shield,  and  also  condescended 
to  make  some  explanation: 

"I'm  alone  in  this,"  he  said,  "because  this  capture 


304  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

means  a  good  bit  of  money.  I  took  the  window, 
because  I  thought  I  might  catch  him  napping.  He 
can't  get  out  now  without  my  seeing  him.  While  I 
was  ringing  the  bell,  he  might  have  dodged  away  by 
the  same  means  I  took  to  get  in." 

"He  might,  if  he  were  here,"  was  Maggie's  cold 
comment;  "but  it  so  happens  that  he  isn't  here.  And 
that  ends  it!" 

"Oh,  not  quite !"  the  detective  affirmed,  grimly.  The 
young  woman  was  particularly  delightful  in  the  matter 
of  looks,  but  her  obstinacy  was  somewhat  trying  to 
the  temper.  "It  won't  end  until  I've  had  a  look  about." 

The  sound  of  the  man's  voice  had  penetrated  to  the 
kitchen.  Ada,  by  some  sixth  sense  developed  out  of 
her  many  experiences  with  the  representatives  of  the 
law,  was  sure  of  the  visitor's  character  instantly,  but 
a  horrible  fascination  drew  her  toward  the  scene  to 
make  certainty  more  certain.  So,  she  tiptoed  cau- 
tiously along  the  passage  until  she  had  reached  the 
parlor-door,  where  she  peered  cautiously  within.  At 
her  heels  followed  Margie,  who  had  been  with  her  in 
the  kitchen,  and  the  child,  by  a  like  instinct,  guessed 
what  this  thing  might  mean.  One  glance  convinced 
Ada  as  to  the  justice  of  her  fears,  and  she  turned 
instantly  to  flee.  But  the  detective,  too,  had  a  subtlety 
of  perception  that  was  equal  to  instinct,  by  reason  of 


AN  INVITATION  305 

his  training.  His  gaze  took  in  the  two  faces  in  the 
doorway,  and  forthwith  his  voice  rang  out  trium- 
phantly : 

"Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Darkin  —  and  Zaza,  too ! 
Well,  well !  All  we  need  now  is  Papa  Darkin,  to  make 
our  family  party  quite  complete.  Let's  hope  he'll  not 
keep  us  waiting." 

This  ill-timed  jocularity,  naturally,  met  with  no  sym- 
pathetic response  on  the  part  of  the  three  auditors.  But 
it  had  the  effect  of  causing  Mrs.  Darkin  and  Margie  to 
abandon  the  idea  of  withdrawing.  Maggie,  still  main- 
taining an  air  of  indignation  over  the  invasion  of 
her  home  in  such  summary  fashion,  repeated  her 
denial : 

"I  tell  you,  the  man  you  want  is  not  here." 

"Papa  isn't  here,  if  he's  the  one  you're  looking  for," 
Margie  declared,  giving  Darkin  that  designation  in 
her  excitement  from  this  renewal  of  old-time  asso- 
ciation. Ada,  too,  uttered  a  vigorous  disclaimer  of  her 
husband's  being  in  the  apartment.  She  added,  with 
bitterness  that  would  have  been  convincing  to  anyone 
save  a  policeman,  that  she  had  no  idea  as  to  his  where- 
abouts, nor  wished  any  information  concerning  him  — 
unless  it  related  to  his  being  in  jail  or  dead. 

The  detective  saw  fit  in  the  exercise  of  his  duty 
practically  to  ignore  the  various  declarations  of  the 


306  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

three,  while  formally  accepting  them.  To  this  end, 
he  shifted  his  ground. 

"Well,  then,"  he  inquired  pleasantly  of  Maggie,  "can 
I  see  the  gentleman  who  is  hiding  in  these  apart- 
ments?" He  waited  for  a  moment.  Since  no  reply 
seemed  forthcoming,  he  added,  suggestively :  "I  mean 
the  one  the  letter-carrier  saw  yesterday  morning,  and 
the  milk-boy  this  morning." 

"I  have  told  you  before,  and  I  repeat  it,"  Maggie 
cried  angrily,  "that  this  Mr.  Darkin  is  not  here." 

"Do  you  smoke  cigars  yourself?"  the  detective 
asked,  suddenly.  He  pointed  to  the  ash-tray,  where  a 
butt  was  lying. 

"I  permit  some  friends  to  smoke  in  my  presence," 
the  girl  replied,  without  a  second  of  hesitation. 

"You  did  that  extremely  well,"  the  man  admitted, 
generously.  "But  I  happen  to  know  that  no  gentleman 
has  called  on  you  within  a  few  days.  And  you  look 
too  neat  to  leave  a  thing  like  that  lying  about  very  long 
on  your  parlor-table."  He  picked  up  the  piece  of  cigar, 
and  sniffed  at  it.  "That  cigar  was  burning  not  an 
hour  ago,"  he  stated,  positively.  "You  can  tell  by  the 
staleness  in  the  smell."  He  turned  again  to  Maggie. 
"I'd  be  glad  to  spare  you  any  trouble  possible,"  he 
said ;  "but  I  really  must  search  this  place  —  unless  you 


AN  INVITATION  307 

are  willing  to  save  you  and  me  the  bother  of  it. 
Won't  you?" 

Mag-gie  stamped  her  foot,  petulantly.  The  terror 
that  gripped  her  heart  was  not  betrayed  in  voice  or 
appearance,  when  she  answered.  She  played  her  part 
capitally,  for  love's  sake : 

''Do  you  suppose  I'd  hide  a  murderer  in  my  apart- 
ment? You'll  have  to  get  busy  on  some  other  clue." 

The  officer  smiled  mockingly. 

"That's  the  time  you  gave  yourself  away,  miss," 
he  announced,  and  a  note  of  triumph  sounded  in  his 
tones,  at  which  the  girl  wondered  with  new  fear. 
"There's  been  nothing  printed  in  the  papers  about 
Darkin  being  wanted  for  murder.  It's  been  kept  secret 
here.  I've  said  nothing  about  it.  ...  How  did  you 
know?" 

Immediately,  then,  the  afflicted  girl  realized  the  pit 
that  she  had  dug  for  herself.  She  could  not  betray  her 
informant,  Mrs.  Thatcher.  For  the  first  time,  she 
lost  her  self-control.  The  color  flooded  her  cheeks; 
the  gray  eyes  wavered  and  fell  before  the  detective's 
exulting  gaze;  she  could  not  find  a  single  word  of 
exculpation. 

It  was  at  this  critical  moment  that  a  diversion 
occurred.  Just  as  the  detective  was  about  to  press 
home  his  triumph  over  the  girl  who  had  so  defied  him, 


308  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

he  was  startled  by  the  appearance  of  another  person 
on  the  scene — one  who,  most  assuredly,  was  not  James 
Darkin.  The  baffled  officer  stared  in  chagiin  at  the 
newcomer,  for,  in  the  first  second,  he  was  convinced 
that  this  man  was  in  truth  the  person  who  had  been  so 
mysteriously  housed  here.  It  was  not  Darkin,  for  a 
certainty.  The  denouement  disgusted  the  detective 
beyond  measure.  He  had  regarded  the  reward  offered 
for  Jim  Darkin's  apprehension  as  surely  his.  He 
regarded  the  gentleman  who  had  appeared  in  the  door- 
way so  abruptly  with  open  disapprobation.  The  fact 
that  the  latest  arrival  on  the  scene  was  a  particularly 
good-looking  person,  with  an  unusually  excellent 
figure,  rather  smartly  dressed  in  a  business-suit,  com- 
forted the  disappointed  officer  not  at  all.  He  felt  that 
this  fellow  had  wantonly  cheated  him  out  of  a  very  tidy 
sum,  which  he  had  already  counted  as  his  own. 

"But  it  ain't  Darkin!"  he  reflected  aloud.  "That's 
positive !" 

Then,  as  he  continued  to  gaze  at  the  man,  during 
the  silence  that  had  fallen,  the  disgust  on  his  face  faded 
swiftly.  In  its  stead  came  first  doubt,  next  hope, 
finally  conviction  — •  all  this  within  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye.  Joy  shone  from  him.  Despair  had  become  rejoic- 
ing as  by  a  miracle.  Here,  ready  to  hand,  was  more 


AN  INVITATION  309 

money  than  he  had  just  lost.    Again,  he  soliloquized 
—  now,  in  triumph : 

"No,  it's  not  Darkin  —  not  a  bit  like  him.  But 
he  does  look  very  much  like  a  certain  missing  gentle- 
man, whose  picture  has  been  in  the  papers  lately,  and 
has  been  sent  out  from  headquarters,  too,  and  whose 
description  is  posted  in  every  police  station  for  the 
instruction  of  police  officials."  He  grinned  compla- 
cently, and  his  gaze  darted  back  to  Maggie,  almost 
vindictively. 

She  met  the  challenge  with  one  word,  flung  scorn- 
fully : 

"Ridiculous!" 

The  detective  was  not  disturbed  by  her  air  of  dis- 
dain. 

"And  there's  five  thousand  dollars  reward  for  in- 
formation about  that  chap,"  he  concluded,  gloatingly. 

During  the  brief  time  since  his  appearance,  Joseph 
had  maintained  a  discreet  silence,  awaiting  the  turn 
of  events  for  his  own  guidance.  Now,  however,  he 
realized  that  his  opportunity  was  come.  He  stepped 
into  the  room,  without  any  trace  of  hesitation  or  em- 
barrassment, and  approached  the  detective  closely.  He 
smiled  pleasantly,  as  he  spoke : 

"That  missing  gentleman  will  give  twice  the  amount 
of  the  reward  if  the  police  official  who  discovered  him 


3io  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

will  hold  back  the  desired  information  for  just  one 
hour.  This  isn't  anything  like  compounding  a  felony. 
I  have  committed  no  crime.  I've  merely  disappeared, 
and  there's  nothing  against  that  in  the  statutes.  But 
I  do  want  to  keep  the  thing  quiet,  for  reasons  of  my 
own.  I'm  willing  to  pay  for  secrecy.  Would  you  like 
the  money?" 

The  ringing  of  the  door-bell  broke  in  on  the  nego- 
tiations between  Joseph  and  the  detective.  Instinc- 
tively, the  young  man  fled  to  the  seclusion  of  the 
bed-room,  when  Ada,  at  a  gesture  from  Maggie,  went 
into  the  passage.  ...  It  was  Mrs.  Thatcher  who 
entered.  She  stopped  short  in  the  doorway  of  the 
parlor,  as  her  eyes  fell  on  the  officer. 

"Why,  it's  Bailey!"  she  exclaimed,  in  evident  sur- 
prise. 

The  cent:-al-office  man  was  no  less  astonished  on 
beholding  Mrs.  Thatcher,  and  ejaculated  her  name 
energetically. 

"You're  not  here  on  business,  are  you  ?"  the  woman 
demanded,  suspiciously. 

"Indeed,  I  am,"  was  the  curt  reply.  "I'm  here  on 
the  Holbrooke  case,  and  I  can  tell  you  something: 
The  reward  is  not  going  to  be  divided." 

"Divided !    Well,  I  should  say  not !"  Mrs.  Thatcher 


AN  INVITATION  311 

retorted,  sharply.  "Do  you  know  why?  Because  it's 
mine,  and  I  want  it  all." 

"Good  Lord !"  the  policeman  cried,  with  high  indig- 
nation. "Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you've  gone  and 
butted  into  my  business  ?" 

"On  the  contrary,"  was  the  serene  answer,  "you've 
been  so  foolish  as  to  butt  into  mine.  Unfortunately 
for  you,  Mr.  Bailey,  you  won't  get  a  chance  even  — 
at  that  five  thousand.  Permit  me  to  extend  to  you  my 
sympathy." 

"We'll  see  about  it,"  the  man  growled.  'Til  send 
in  the  information  at  once."  In  his  irritation  of  the 
moment,  he  had  quite  forgotten  Joseph  Holbrooke's 
proposition  to  him. 

"It's  all  attended  to,  thank  you,  Mr.  Bailey,"  Mrs. 
Thatcher  declared,  with  an  air  of  great  kindliness. 
"You  really  cannot  be  of  the  slightest  service  to  me  in 
the  matter,  although  I  appreciate  the  generosity  of 
your  offer." 

The  sleuth  threw  out  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of  in- 
dignation. 

"You  women  are  simply  ruining  our  business,"  he 
exclaimed,  violently.  "You  seem  to  have  no  sense  of 
professional  honor."  He  turned  his  back  rudely,  and 
stared  out  of  the  window,  pondering  angrily  as  to 
the  course  he  should  best  pursue. 


3i2  MAGGIE   PEPPER 

Mrs.  Thatcher  improved  the  opportunity  to  explain 
to  Maggie  the  reason  of  her  return.  Hargen  himself 
was  coming  to  the  flat  immediately,  was,  in  fact, 
already  on  his  way,  would  arrive  at  any  instant.  She 
had  wished  to  warn  Maggie  of  his  intention.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  manager  of  Holbrooke  and  Com- 
pany was  at  the  door  as  his  detective  took  her  depar- 
ture. Maggie  recognized  his  voice,  as  he  spoke  to 
Ada,  who  let  him  in.  She  turned  imperiously  to  the 
man  from  the  central  office. 

"Get  into  the  kitchen,  out  of  the  way,"  she  com- 
manded. She  had  suddenly  shaken  off  the  apathy  that 
the  rapid  succession  of  events  had  laid  upon  her,  and 
was  again  the  mistress  of  all  her  energy  and  resource. 
"You  remember  the  proposition  that  Mr.  Holbrooke 
made  to  you?  Well,  just  go  out  there  and  talk  with 
Mrs.  Darkin,  who'll  keep  you  company  —  and  Margie, 
too."  She  smiled  at  her  niece  to  emphasize  the  hint 
as  to  withdrawal.  "Mr.  Holbrooke  will  see  you  very 
soon,  and  arrange  the  matter.  I  wish  to  speak  to  Mr. 
Hargen  privately.  Hurry,  please." 

Her  manner  was  so  masterful  that  the  detective 
obeyed,  almost  without  volition,  and  he  was  promptly 
escorted  to  the  kitchen  by  Margie,  who  was  enjoying 
herself  hugely.  Maggie  nodded  a  direction  to  Ada, 
as  she  appeared  to  announce  Hargen,  and  the  woman 


AN  INVITATION.  313 

in  turn  quickly  retreated,  leaving  the  manager  of  Hol- 
brooke and  Company  face  to  face  with  his  former 
employee.  The  girl  had  as  yet  no  idea  of  the  method 
she  meant  to  pursue,  but  she  was  filled  with  courage 
now,  ready  to  wring  victory  from  defeat  for  the  sake 
of  the  man  she  loved,  and,  too,  for  the  sake  of  her  own 
life's  happiness. 

Holbrooke  halted  in  the  doorway,  and  glared  at  the 
girl. 

"So!"  he  said,  with  insulting  emphasis,  the  while 
he  plucked  viciously  at  a  wisp  of  whisker.  His  blood- 
less face  was  even  more  wan  than  its  wont.  "This  is 
where  Joseph  has  hidden  himself.  How  long  has  he 
been  here?" 

"Ever  since  he  disappeared,"  Maggie  replied,  evenly. 
Some  instinct  taught  her  the  answer,  and  she  followed 
its  leading  blindly,  although  reason  bade  her  kc;-p 
silence. 

The  revelation  filled  Hargen  with  wonder  and  rage. 

"You  dare  confess  it !"  he  exclaimed ;  and  a  tinge  of 
color,  summoned  by  excitement,  crept  slowly  into  his 
cheeks.  "You've  been  living  together  like  this,  all  the 
time,  you " 

"Hold  on,  Hargen!" 

The  interruption  came  in  a  low,  but  very  dangerous, 
voice.  It  was  Joseph  whom  the  manager  faced  as  he 


MAGGIE  PEPPER 

whirled  about.  One  glance  into  the  countenance  of 
that  usually  placid  young  gentleman  caused  Hargen  to 
shrivel  visibly.  There  was  fire  in  Joseph's  eyes,  and 
his  jaw  was  thrust  forward,  savagely.  He  looked 
capable  of  —  anything !  Just  then,  Maggie  understood 
the  leading  of  instinct  that  had  been  vouchsafed  her : 
It  was  to  bring  her  to  this  issue,  when  Joe  should 
appear.  The  whole  matter  was  in  his  hands.  Nothing 
mattered  now.  He  would  do  all  needful.  There  could 
be  no  more  trouble.  He  would  clear  every  obstacle 
from  their  path  to  happiness.  She  had  given  him  her 
love,  she  had  confided  her  life  to  his  keeping.  Very 
well,  then,  she  would  trust  him  absolutely.  Hargen 
did  not  matter,  or  Ethel,  or  anyone,  or  anything. 
Joseph  would  make  all  right.  She  stood  watching  him, 
in  glad  content,  curiously1,  without  any  shadow  of 
apprehension.  .  .  .  And  she  was  justified. 

"Hargen,"  Joseph  said,  and  his  voice  was  menacing, 
"you  will  sell  me  your  shares  in  Holbrooke  and  Com- 
pany at  the  market  price,  and  get  out.  As  soon  as  I've 
installed  a  new  manager,  I  shall  marry  Miss  Pepper. 
You  will  see  to  it  that  your  niece  doesn't  bother  me  — 
or  anyone  I  care  for.  If  she  does,  you'll  go  to  jail.  I 
"don't  think  she'd  like  that.  Make  her  understand.  I've 
Had  an  expert  on  the  books,  evenings,  for  some  time, 
and,  if  you  and  that  precious  niece  of  yours  don't 


AN  IN  FIT  AT  ION  315 

behave,  the  facts  will  come  out.  Your  juggling  with 
the  accounts  was  well  done,  Hargen  —  only,  it  wasn't 
done  well  enough  —  not  quite.  But  I'll  give  you  time 
to  pay  up  what  you've  embezzled.  .  .  .  Now,  do  you 
understand  ?  Answer !" 

"I  understand."  The  old  man's  voice  was  only  a 
mumble;  his  face  was  ghastly.  The  degradation  of 
his  aspect  was  revolting  to  the  girl  who  looked  on. 

"I  don't  like  to  threaten  a  woman,"  Joseph  con- 
tinued, "but,  in  Ethel's  case,  I  don't  mind  so  much, 
because  she  showed  herself  to  me  recently  in  such 
wise  that  I  can't  think  of  her  with  any  respect  what- 
ever. "I'll  see  her,  if  necessary  —  if  you  think  you 
can't  control  her.  She's  a  terror,  I  know,  and  so  do 
you.  Can  you  handle  her?" 

Hargen  nodded.  He  was  too  much  overcome  for 
any  audible  reply. 

"It'll  be  the  devil  of  a  job,"  Joseph  insisted.  His 
memory  of  the  last  interview  with  his  former  fiance 
was  still  strong  within  him.  "You're  sure  you  can 
manage  her,  all  right  ?" 

Once  again,  the  old  man  nodded,  more  emphatically. 
Doubtless,  it  was  in  agreement  with  all  Joseph  had 
said  concerning  his  niece. 

"Then,    get   out!"    the    young   man   commanded, 


316  MAGGIE  PEPPER 

brutally.  He  watched  in  silence  as  the  figure  turned 
and  went  out  with  shambling  steps. 

He  faced  Maggie  with  a  smile. 

"There's  just  one  thing  more,"  he  said.  "I'll  shut 
up  that  detective.  That'll  keep  our  little  secret  safe." 
He  hurried  to  the  kitchen,  from  which  he  returned, 
beaming,  within  five  minutes.  The  detective  passed  on 
his  way  out,  as  Joseph  addressed  Maggie  once  again. 

"Everything's  all  settled,  and  we'll  live  happy  ever 
after,"  he  announced,  and  his  voice  was  vibrant  with 
joy.  He  drew  the  girl  into  his  arms,  and  kissed  her 
tenderly. 

It  was  perhaps  five  minutes  later,  when,  at  last, 
Joseph  spoke  aloud  once  more : 

"I'm  going  to  invite  the  Marquis  de  Brensac  to  our 
wedding,"  he  announced. 

Maggie  looked  up  into  her  lover's  face  with  a  great 
surprise  in  the  warm  gray  of  her  eyes. 

"Now,  who  on  earth,"  she  questioned,  "is  the  Mar- 
quis de  Brensac  ?" 

"Why,  he's  the  fellow  that  did  all  this,"  Joseph 
replied  happily,  as  he  drew  the  girl  closer,  and  kissed 
her  lingeringly  on  the  red,  curving  lips.  Then,  since 
she  insisted,  he  explained  to  her  the  part  played  in  his 
destiny  by  the  nobleman  over-seas.  "And  so,"  he  con- 
cluded, "we  must  bid  him  to  our  wedding." 


AN.  INVITATION,  317 

"I  never  did  think  much  of  those  foreign  titled 
chaps,"  said  Maggie  Pepper ;  "but,  things  being  as  they 

are "  she  snuggled  contentedly  within  her  lover's 

arms  —  "why,  I  say,  God  bless  the  marquis." 

"Amen !"  quoth  Joseph. 


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